Rocky Road
by madmother2
Summary: This is the sequel to 'Consequences'- please read that first. Contains spoilers. Doc Martin has to treat Bert for stress after something unexpected happens but can he find out what the underlying cause is?
1. Chapter 1

Rocky Road.

This is the sequel to 'Consequences'; you need to read that first.

Summary: Doc Martin has to treat Bert for stress after something unexpected happens but can he find out what the underlying cause is?

Author's note: I have no medical knowledge so I've tried to look things up on the internet, otherwise I've just made them up.

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter One

Bert Large had many faults, he was lazy, he lacked willpower when it came to food, he loved to gossip and he tended to rush in to new business ventures without checking them properly beforehand, but he was a gentle, caring man. Which is why he found himself hesitating at the Oakwood's front door. Teri Oakwood had been distraught at Sam's funeral and hadn't been seen since and it had now been four days. He couldn't imagine how she must be feeling; he practically had a nervous breakdown every time Al was ill and if he died, well it didn't bear thinking about!  
So, Bert had decided to get Teri Oakwood to come and have a coffee at his restaurant (and if this meant that all the busy-bodies in the village came for a coffee too then everyone would benefit). Summoning up his courage, Bert rang the bell. There was no reply. Bert rang again and without waiting, opened the door and walked in, calling,

'Mrs Oakwood? It's Bert Large.'

'In here.'

In here was the lounge. Teri Oakwood was sat on the sofa, knees together and hands resting neatly on her knees. As Bert came in she raised her face to his and Bert felt his heart wrench at the anguish in her eyes. Unconsciously lowering his voice, Bert said,

'Hello, Mrs Oakwood. I wondered if you'd care to come and have a coffee with me?'

'Coffee?'

'Yes. I'm paying.'

'I'm not sure…'

'It would do you good to go out and get some fresh air.'

'Well…'

'There were some dolphins in the harbour earlier.'

'Dolphins?'

'Yes and the tide's still in so they might still be there.'

Teri Oakwood hesitated,

'But Anthony won't know where I am.'

'You could leave him a note.'

Bert felt as though he was coaxing a child but he could tell that she wanted to come really.

'Yes.'

Having made her decision, Teri Oakwood was ready surprisingly quickly. In less than five minutes she had written a note for her husband, put on her coat and gloves and picked up her handbag.

Three hours later Bert was congratulating himself; not only had his restaurant been swamped with people 'wanting a cuppa to get warm', but Teri Oakwood had been easier to deal with than he'd expected. She'd been subdued and quiet but the frozen anguish that he'd seen when he arrived at her house had eased. The dolphins had come in to the harbour again and she'd turned to Bert and asked,

'Do you believe in reincarnation?'

'Ah, well, that's a tricky one. Not sure whether you come back or not really. Just have to wait and see, I suppose.'

'I do. I'm sure Sam will come back as a dolphin. Swimming free in Mother Nature's wonderful oceans.'

'Ah…um…I'm sure you're right.'

Bert had a feeling that reincarnation didn't work like that even if it was real but he was too kind-hearted to point it out when it clearly gave Teri so much comfort.

Once the dolphins had gone, Teri had become fidgety and nervous. Eventually, she turned to Bert, saying,

'I'd like to go home now.'

'Of course. Let me just give this tea to Mrs Wilkins and I'll walk you home.'

When they got back to the cottage, Teri hesitated before inviting Bert in.

'I ought to get back really,' said Bert, awkwardly.

'Please. I don't want to be alone.'

Helplessly, Bert followed her indoors. Hanging up her coat, Teri said,

'Come into the kitchen. I've got some home made cakes in the cupboard. People keep bringing us food but I haven't felt like eating.'

Bert decided that Al could cope without him for a bit longer and happily followed Teri into the kitchen.

It was a decision that he regretted for a long time.

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Two

Pauline looked at the appointments list with dislike. Ever since Doc Martin had been in the newspapers, more and more people had been trying to join the surgery, many of them lying about their home address in order to get an appointment. This meant that there were people coming for appointments whom she had never seen before in her life and who had no right to take up appointments that could be given to genuine locals. At least Doc Martin gave anyone he caught a real tongue-lashing and refused to see them again. He'd also told her to get proof of address from all new patients, which was a good idea but made her very unpopular. She'd had to threaten to call the police last week when someone refused to provide evidence of their address. You could tell that they weren't locals; they were actually worried about her calling the police. Anyone who'd lived in Port Wenn for more than a week knew that Joe Penhale was looked after by the community not the other way round. Pauline wondered if the next patient would turn up; there'd been a deathly hush on the other end of the telephone when she'd told Mrs Lewis that she'd have to bring proof of address with her.

Pauline's ruminations were interrupted by an elderly couple coming into the surgery. The man had an anxious expression and hovered nervously at the woman's side.

'Can I help you?' asked Pauline, briskly.

'Hello, I'm Mrs Lewis. I've got an appointment to see Doctor Ellingham.'

The woman's voice was hesitant and apologetic. Mollified, Pauline said,

'Yes, that's right. I just need you to provide me with proof of your address.'

Mrs Lewis unzipped her handbag and handed Pauline her Pension Book. Pauline opened the book and read the address: 171 Bristol Road, Exeter. Exasperated, Pauline said,

'This is no use. You need to be living in Port Wenn or the surrounding area to join the surgery.'

'But I don't want to join the surgery.'

'Then why did you make an appointment?'

'I'm visiting my sister and I'm not feeling well and Mary, my sister, said I should come and see Doctor Ellingham.'

'You want to see him as a visitor?'

'Yes, if it's not too much trouble?'

'No, that's fine. There are some forms you need to fill out. Take a seat and I'll get them for you.'

Mrs Lewis had just handed Pauline her completed forms when the consulting room door opened to reveal a furious young man, who turned to shout back into the room,

'I'll live my life how I want to!'

Doc Martin followed him out into the waiting room,

'Then you'll keep catching infections and eventually you'll catch something fatal. Personal hygiene is not an optional extra!'

'Tosser!'

Pauline sighed as the young man slammed the outside door behind him.

'Mrs Lewis, you're next.'

Mrs Lewis got slowly to her feet, saying,

'I'm not sure…I don't feel that bad really…'

Martin looked carefully at her,

'Have you been having dizzy spells?'

'Well, yes, Doctor.'

'Come through.'

Martin led Mrs Lewis into the consulting room,

'Sit down. When did they start?'

'Just a few weeks ago. A first it was only once or twice a day, now it's every time I stand up.'

'Hmm. Take off your coat and roll up your sleeve please. I'm going to check your blood pressure.'

Martin was just about to inflate the sphygmomanometer's cuff when the phone rang. Annoyed, he barked into the phone,

'What?'

'Bert Large for you, Doctor Ellingham. He says it's an emergency.'

There was a click and then Martin heard,

'Doc, is that you? You've got come straight away.'

Bert's voice was frantic and Martin reacted automatically as his professional training kicked in,

'What's happened? Are you hurt?'

'No, I'm fine. It's…it's Anthony Oakwood…'

'Is he ill?'

'I…I think he's dead.'

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Three

'Don't touch him!' barked Martin, peremptorily, before slamming the phone down. Ignoring Mrs Lewis, he grabbed his emergency bag and rushed out of the consulting room.

'Pauline, I've got an emergency. I'll call if I need you to bring anything.'

'Oh my God! Is it Al?'

'No, of course it's not Al.'

Martin ran out of the surgery without explaining any further, leaving Pauline baffled.

Five minutes later he reached the Oakwood's cottage. Bert Large was waiting by the gate, his normally florid face pale and sweaty.

'Thank goodness you're here, Doc. I didn't know what to do.'

'Where is he?'

'Inside. But the thing is, she is as well.'

'Who? Mrs Oakwood? Is she dead too?'

'No she's fine but I couldn't get her to leave him. She started dancing and chanting.'

'Just some more of her mystical claptrap, I expect. The woman's got the intelligence of a lobotomised Labrador.'

Martin started to push past Bert but paused when he noticed Bert's hands shaking,

'Get some rest.'

'I can't rest, Doc, I've got a business to run.'

'Not today you haven't. You're in shock. Go home and rest.'

'I must admit I'm not feeling too good.'

'Call Al and get him to come and take you home.'

Martin waited until Bert pulled out his phone, then pushed open the front door and went in. There was no sign of anyone in the lounge but he could hear singing. Sniffing he realised that he could smell incense burning as well. Going into the kitchen, Martin gazed in stunned disbelief at the scene in front of him; Teri Oakwood was dancing around the kitchen waving incense sticks with one hand whilst scattering earth from a bowl on the table over the body with the other and singing,

'O great Earth Mother, conjure up your spirits of light…'

Outraged, Martin shouted,

'STOP!'

Teri faltered in mid-step and turned to face him,

'You don't understand, the spirits must be summoned to take Anthony's soul to The Other Plane.'

'You don't think it might be a good idea to check whether or not he's dead first?'

Oblivious to the sarcasm, Teri replied,

'But Bert said he was dead.'

'And is Bert a doctor?'

'No, but I was sure he was right. I could tell straight away that Anthony's vital force was no longer present.'

'Utter nonsense. He could just be unconscious. Get out the way and let me examine him.'

Brusquely pushing Teri Oakwood out of his way, he knelt beside Anthony Oakwood and felt for a pulse.  
As soon as he touched the body, Martin knew that Anthony was almost certainly dead; his skin was cold against Martin's hand. A further examination confirmed it; Anthony Oakwood was dead and had been for some hours. Brushing the earth off the body Martin did as thorough an examination as he could without moving the body.  
Sighing, he stood up and taking Teri Oakwood firmly by the arm, he led her into the lounge.

'Sit!'

Teri sat but said,

'I've got to continue the ritual. Otherwise Anthony's soul won't advance to the next plane.'

'What?'

'The spirit summoning must be completed.'

Teri got to her feet but Martin pushed her firmly back down,

'The spirit summoning will have to wait until the police have been.'

'The police? Why should the police be involved?'

'The last time I saw your husband he was fit and well. He had no underlying health conditions that I am aware of. There is no reason for him to be lying dead on your kitchen floor. Therefore, it is my responsibility to call the police.'

'But surely he must have just had a heart attack?'

'Vegetarian health freaks don't often have heart attacks at the age of forty-one.'

'But what else could it be?'

Martin looked at Teri in disbelief; surely she couldn't be that stupid. Reminding himself that she was probably in shock, he replied brusquely,

'Any number of things. That's why we have to call the police.'

Ignoring Teri's disjointed murmurs, Martin got out his phone and dialled 999.

'Emergency operator. Which service do you require?'

'Police.'

A few seconds later Martin heard,

'Police. How can I help?'

'This is Doctor Martin Ellingham, Port Wenn. I'm calling to report a sudden death.'

An hour later, Martin was deep in discussion with the police doctor. A team of officers had come and taken photographs and then the two doctors had been allowed to examine the body in situ. Although a post mortem would need to be carried out, one thing was clear; Anthony Oakwood had been murdered.

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	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Four

Martin left shortly after the police doctor had gone. The police would want a statement from him but they wanted to process the scene first. They'd asked him to be available in the morning so he'd told them to come to the surgery; it would be disruptive but not as bad as if he had to go to the police station.

Afternoon surgery was officially over but Martin went back to the surgery to check that nothing urgent had come up. As he came into the waiting room his heart sank; the Baker family were waiting to see him. It was now eleven days since Sam Oakwood had crashed into the school and since Chelsey Baker had desperately tried to pull her friends to safety but had had to listen to them die instead. At first, Martin had been hopeful that Chelsey would recover quite quickly but she was having continuous nightmares and was hardly eating. Martin had sent Chelsey to a counsellor but Chelsey had found her 'horrid' and had refused to go and see her again. Her parents were at their wits ends. The appointment this afternoon was to try to decide what to do next. The doctor inside Martin was glad that they had waited but there was a small part of him that longed to send them away so that he could take Peter to see Louisa. Sternly reminding himself that he shouldn't be thinking about his personal life when there were patients needing treatment, he asked Pauline,

'Are there any urgent messages?'

'No, Doctor Ellingham. Is it true?'

'Is what true?'

'Was Anthony Oakwood murdered?'

'That's for the inquest to decide.'

'So he was murdered.'

'I didn't say that,' said Martin, annoyed.

'But they wouldn't have all those police if it was a natural death,' said Emily Baker.

'No and Joe Penhale's dashing around telling everyone how it's not his fault,' added Pauline.

'Joe Penhale's a congenital idiot. I shouldn't believe anything he says, if I were you.'

'So it is his fault, then?'

'No, it isn't. He's not expected to monitor people in their own homes.'

'So, he was killed indoors?'

'That's where the body was,' replied Martin, curtly.

'So, what was it like? Was he covered in blood?' asked Pauline, eagerly.

Irritated by their inability to understand that medical confidentiality made it impossible for him to comment or to confirm the obvious, Martin changed the subject,

'Pauline, call Mrs Norton and tell her I won't be going to the hospital until later so can she take Peter in to see Miss Glasson.'

'Yes, Doctor Ellingham,' replied Pauline happily. Being told to ring Joan Norton gave her the opportunity to find out what Joan had heard and exchange rumours.

Turning to the Baker family, Martin said,

'Come through.'

Once everyone had sat down, Martin asked Chelsey,

'How are you feeling?'

'Tired and I feel sick all the time.'

'Any vomiting or diarrhoea?'

'No.'

'Hmm. You may have an infection. Hop up on the bed for me please.'

Martin quickly examined Chelsey. There were no signs of infection; her temperature was normal, she didn't have a rash and her ears and throat were a healthy pink. Her abdomen wasn't tender and her heart and lungs sounded normal. Unfortunately, she was noticeably thinner than she had been a week ago. Never an overweight child, Chelsey was now too thin and could end up in hospital if she didn't start eating properly within the next few days.

'You can get down.'

'Is it an infection?' asked Mrs Baker.

'No. It's still the trauma, I'm afraid.'

'What do we need to do, Doc?' asked Mr Baker, anxiously.

'I think more counselling's probably the way to go.'

'No!'

Chelsey's voice was adamant.

'Why not?' asked Martin, surprised by Chelsey's vehemence.

'Counsellor's are stupid.'

'What makes you say that?'

'She thought that I would feel better if I pretended it was a bad dream! If it was a dream Jack and Laura would be alive.'

'True.'

'And when I said that she said that I was making a fuss about nothing.'

'I see,' said Martin, feeling furious on Chelsey's behalf.  
Telling a child who'd been through major trauma that she was making a fuss about nothing was inexcusable. He clearly needed to have a discussion with Chris Parsons about the quality of his staff and in the meantime, he needed to make sure that the incompetent idiot didn't treat any more of his patients. Pressing the button on his intercom, he said,

'Pauline, cancel any appointments that any patients have with Mrs Saunders, please, and let the patients know.'

'Yes, Doctor Ellingham. What reason shall I give?'

'That she's an insensitive ignoramus with the bedside manner of a troglodyte and the brains of a retarded slug.'

'Okay,' said Pauline, slowly, trying to imagine how bad the counsellor must be for Doc Martin to think that she was insensitive.

Looking thoughtfully at Chelsey, Martin asked,

'Who would you be willing to talk to?'

'You.'

'Me?'

'Yes.'

'But I'm not a qualified counsellor.'

'I don't want a counsellor. I want to talk to you.'

'But I'm no good with people.'

'I don't care.'

'But…'

Before Martin could vocalise his objections more fully, Mrs Baker said,

'Could we try it? Just for a few days?'

Martin was about to refuse but the pain and despair in Mrs Baker's eyes stopped the words dead. Reluctantly, he agreed,

'But if there's no improvement in a few days we'll have to think of something else.'

'Yes, Doctor.'

They agreed that Chelsey should come to see him every afternoon at five o'clock and the Baker's left. Martin sighed and made a mental note to look through his medical journals and read as many articles on child trauma as he possibly could. He'd never found treating people's minds easy but he was going to have to improve immediately.

He left the surgery and was walking down the hill when his phone rang,

'Ellingham.'

'Doc, you've got to come quick. I think Dad's having a heart attack!'

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	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Five

'Where are you?'

'At the restaurant.'

Martin ran down the hill, screaming,

'Out of the way!'

The locals all moved quickly to the side, knowing that he'd push them aside if he had to, but he had to side step to avoid some backpackers who looked at him blankly as he hurtled past.

At the entrance he barged past a group of tourists who were looking at the menu, and plunged down the steps and on to the terrace of Bert's restaurant. Al hurried to meet him, saying, anxiously,

'He's in here, Doc.'

He led Martin into the kitchen where Bert was slumped on one of the chairs, gasping and holding his chest.

Martin hurried to his side and did a rapid assessment of his symptoms: Bert was hyperventilating and appeared to be in pain but his lips were pink and his eyes turned to follow Martin's movements. Martin took hold of Bert's wrist and found his pulse fast but strong.

'Al, what happened?'

'He came in to give me the order for table three. He bent over to pick up some plates, then he sort of gasped and doubled up. I helped him to sit down and suddenly he couldn't breathe and said his chest hurt. When it didn't pass, I called you.'

'How long?'

'Dunno. Five minutes, maybe?'

'Get me a paper bag.'

Al hastily emptied some carrots out of a paper bag and handed it to Martin. Martin held the bag out to Bert, saying,

'Breathe into this.'

Martin watched as Bert breathed into the paper bag. After a couple of minutes, Bert's breathing began to slow and Martin was able to continue his examination.

'Al, can you raise his top so I can listen to his chest?'

Once Al had lifted Bert's tank top, shirt and vest, Martin was able to listen to Bert's heart and check his lungs. Martin carried out a thorough examination but everything seemed fine so Martin concluded that Bert had had a panic attack, probably brought on by finding Anthony Oakwood's body earlier that day. Once Bert's breathing was back to normal, Martin asked,

'Why aren't you at home, resting?'

'I was, Doc, but, you see, Amanda, our waiting personnel phoned in sick so I had to come in.'

'Well, ignoring my advice has led you to have a panic attack so next time I tell you to do something, do it!'

'Yes, Doc.'

Bert was unusually subdued and Martin reminded himself that Bert was an ignorant man who had neither the brains nor the training to deal with what had happened today. He forced himself to continue more gently,

'You had a traumatic experience this morning; you can't expect to deal with it in just a couple of hours. I want you to rest here for half an hour and then go home, have a light snack and go to bed. Come and see me in the morning.'

Bert nodded wearily and Martin packed his medical bag and left the kitchen. Al followed him on to the terrace,

'Dad's going to be all right, isn't he?'

'Yes, he just needs to get some rest. Make sure he goes home.'

'I'll call Pauline. Pilates should have finished by now.'

'Pilates?'

'Yeah. They do these weird exercises with balls and that. In the Village Hall, twice a week. Paul says it's really tiring but mostly they seem to lie on their backs so I don't see how it can be really.'

'Pilates is a very good form of exercise. You should try it, Al.'

'Leotards and tights aren't really my scene.'

'Any loose clothing will do.'

'So, I'll be seeing you there, will I, Doc?'

'Unfortunately, with Louisa being incapacitated, I shall have to look after Peter in the evenings.'

'Yeah, right.'

Seeing Al's scepticism, Martin beat a hasty retreat.

By the time Martin got back to the cottage, Aunty Joan was already there with Peter.

'There you are, Marty. I was beginning to think you were never coming home.'

'Sorry, Aunty Joan. I had an emergency.'

'Another one? Not another dead body, I hope?'

'No, although unless he changes his eating habits and starts exercising, Bert Large could start having serious health problems.'

'Bert was as skinny as a rake until his wife died. Then he started comfort eating and never stopped.'

'Well he's eating himself into an early grave.'

'Do you think he doesn't know that? He's not an idiot.'

Martin was about to point out to Aunty Joan that intelligence was not one of Bert's outstanding qualities, when Peter woke. Joan lifted him out of his pram but as soon as he saw Martin, Peter squirmed towards him, making Joan stagger. Martin took Peter and his face softened as the baby smiled at him.

'He knows who his father is,' said Joan.

'What?'

Amused by Martin's inattention, Joan said,

'I'll get a muslin cloth to protect your suit and I'll warm up his bottle.'

'Thank you, Aunty Joan.'

Joan bustled off, returning a few seconds later with a muslin cloth, which Martin draped across his shoulder. She went into the kitchen but carried on talking through the door, looking over her shoulder at Martin,

'Louisa's vision is finally clearing up. They're talking about letting her go home at the end of the week.'

'That's good.'

Martin's reply was brief but Joan saw the way his face brightened at the mention of Louisa,

'She sends her love.'

Joan struggled not to laugh as Martin looked down at Peter to try to hide the fact that he was blushing.

'I explained what had happened and gave her your love.'

'Uh, right, yes, good.'

Martin was blushing furiously now but his expression was tender and he was smiling gently. Joan smiled happily as she checked the temperature of Peter's milk.

Joan helped Martin put Peter's bib on, handed him the bottle and said,

'I'll be off now. See you in the morning.'

'Bye Aunty Joan.'

Martin fed Peter and got himself a light snack, hoping not to get indigestion but knowing that he needed to eat something. An hour later he and Peter were sound asleep.

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	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Six

The next morning didn't go as smoothly for Martin. He usually managed to get himself and Peter washed, dressed and breakfasted in two hours but Peter was fractious and uncooperative and by the time Aunty Joan came to collect him, Martin had already had to change him twice. First, Peter had brought up some milk and had somehow managed to miss his bib and get it all over his arm and then his nappy had leaked leaving a revolted Martin to change his own trousers as well as Peter's trousers and body suit. When Joan came in, Peter was strapped into his car seat, crying, whilst Martin put laundry in the washing machine. Joan took Peter out of his car seat and cuddled him. Peter promptly stopped crying and smiled at Joan,

'Morning, Marty. Rough night?'

'No.'

Martin looked at his son and felt a sense of failure creeping over him. Even his own son would rather be with someone else. Joan went to pick up the nappy bag,

'Wait. I haven't packed it yet,' said Martin, brusquely.

Joan looked sharply at Martin, seeing the anxiety and frustration in his face.

'I'll pack it. You hold Peter.'

Without waiting for a reply, Joan handed Peter to Martin and went upstairs to look for clean clothes and nappies for the day.

Martin held his son gingerly, waiting for him to start crying again but instead Peter smiled at him and snuggled into his shoulder. Martin felt himself relax and realised that he was being illogical; Peter was not at a sufficiently advanced stage of development to be able to distinguish between carers. The only person Peter would have bonded with so far was Louisa. That was why he would happily let himself be passed around all of Aunty Joan's friends, most of whom were frankly do-lally. No doubt Peter would become more discriminating as he got older.

By the time Joan came downstairs, Peter was dozing off in Martin's arms and Martin no longer looked as though he wanted to put his fist through the wall.

By the time Joan had collected Peter's bottles, it was time for Martin to go to the surgery.

'I should be finished by twelve-thirty. I'll come and get Peter then.'

'Right. Get Pauline to call me if anything crops up.'

'Right.'

Joan smiled as Martin strode up the hill,

'Daddy forgot to put his tie on.'

When Martin reached the surgery, Pauline had already opened up and there were three people in the waiting room: Bert, Joe Penhale and one of the detectives who had been at the Oakwood's house the day before.

'We've come to take your statement, Doc,' explained Penhale

'Go through. I'll be with you in a minute.'

Leaving Penhale to lead the detective into his consulting room, Martin went over to Bert. Lifting Bert's wrist he checked his pulse whilst conducting a brief visual examination at the same time. Bert's pulse was normal and his colour was good though he looked tired.

'I'll see you as soon as I've given the police my statement.'

'Right, Doc.'

'Pauline, hold my calls.'

'Yes, Doctor Ellingham.'

Martin went into his consulting room and closed the door. Bert and Pauline waited for a few seconds, then they both crept over and put an ear to the door.

Martin walked into the room and sat behind his desk,

'Let's get this over with. I've got a lot to do today.'

'Certainly, Doctor Ellingham. I'm Detective Inspector Haines. If you could tell me what happened yesterday. Constable Penhale will type it up later and bring you a copy to check and sign.'

DI Haines sat back and listened as Martin explained about Bert's frantic phone call, Teri's bizarre spirit calling ritual and Anthony Oakwood's body.

'What made you decide to call the police?'

'There were a number of factors: Anthony Oakwood's age and diet made a heart attack unlikely, there was some bruising of the lips and one of his shoes was some distance from the body.'

DI Haines nodded thoughtfully,

'Were the patio doors open or closed when you came in?'

Martin cast his mind back, grateful for his phenomenal memory,

'Closed.'

'Did you see anyone in the garden?'

Martin paused before admitting,

'I didn't look. I wanted to examine Anthony Oakwood in case he was still alive.'

'Of course. How long had he been dead, in your opinion?'

'I'm not an expert. The forensic pathologist will be able to give you a much better estimate than I can.'

'The forensic pathologist is carrying out an autopsy this morning but I would value your opinion, Doctor Ellingham.'

'Well, the body was cold and rigor mortis had started to set in. I noticed some rigor in the jaw and eyebrows but it was not far advanced. I would say that death had most likely occurred three to six hours before my initial examination. However, there are a large number of factors that can affect the onset of rigor mortis so I would not be surprised if the pathologist's estimate was different.'

'Thank you, Doctor. Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to kill Anthony Oakwood?'

'Everyone who'd ever met him, I would have thought. He was the most irritating man I'd ever met; opinionated, stupid and convinced that his absurd theories were correct.'

'Absurd theories?'

'He believed that children should be raised according to some woolly hippie theory that he had developed and he was testing his theories on his own son.'

'The theories were not a success as far as you were concerned?'

'Since they led Sam to vandalise cars, break things and eventually, to steal a car which he crashed into the school, killing himself and four other children, no.'

'That was Anthony Oakwood's son?'

'Yes.'

'So there are a number of people in Port Wenn with good reason to hate him?'

'Virtually the entire village.'

The detective looked puzzled so Martin explained,

'Due to generations of inbreeding, most of the villagers are related to each other so practically everyone was related to at least one of the victims. If you want to know the details of the village families and how they interconnect, my receptionist, Pauline can explain them.'

'Practice Manager, Doc, not receptionist,' said Penhale, reprovingly.

Martin glared at Penhale but didn't bother to reply. It was true that Pauline did much more than an ordinary receptionist would but that didn't mean that he was going to start calling her the Practice Manager. If he did, she'd start thinking that she was in charge, which would be certain to lead to chaos; it was his practice and he knew best how to run it.

Martin turned back to DI Haines and asked,

'Is there anything else?'

'Not at the moment. Thank you for your time, Doctor.'

Martin followed the police out into the waiting room and was puzzled to find the noise level much lower than usual despite several people waiting.

'Bert, come through.'

Bert sat in the consulting room chair and waited patiently whilst Martin ran an ECG. Martin was pleasantly surprised that Bert had obviously remembered that he needed to sit silently during the ECG. Martin checked the trace, pleased to see that his diagnosis had been correct; Bert's heart continued its steady rhythm with no stuttering or abnormality. In fact, Bert appeared to be in excellent health despite needing to lose several stone in weight.

'How did you sleep?'

'Not very well, Doc. I kept having nightmares. About the body.'

'Perfectly normal. If you're still having nightmares in a few days time, come and see me.'

'So, I'm fit to go?'

'Unless there's anything else?'

Bert hesitated and then said,

'Actually, Doc, there was something I wanted to ask you.'

'Yes?'

'Do you think I should create a Port Wenn pudding?'


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Seven

For a moment Martin thought he was hallucinating or had fallen asleep but then he remembered that it was Bert that he was talking to,

'What?'

'A special pudding to remind people of their visit to Port Wenn. Sort of like how coronation chicken always reminds people of the Queen.'

'Bert, I'm a doctor. You consult me about medical problems not recipes.'

'But you were the one that told me to open a restaurant.'

'No, I wasn't!'

'Strictly speaking, no, but you did advise me to change my life and I took your advice like I always do. So, what do you think? Something with chocolate?'

Exasperated, Martin replied,

'You want my opinion? Cut out all sugar and all saturated fat from your diet and start doing thirty minutes of exercise a day. Now get out!'

'Right you are, Doc. I'll get started on it straight away.'

Bert ambled out, leaving Martin glaring at the door; it was quite clear that Bert hadn't listened to a word he'd said. Which was unusual. Normally, Bert would assure Martin that he was going to mend his ways, just as soon as he had time or was less worried or had dealt with whatever crisis was currently requiring all of his attention. Martin made a mental note to try and find time to check on Bert tomorrow.

Determined to see Louisa today, Martin got through his patients as quickly as possible, disposing of malingerers, gossips and time-wasters even more ferociously than usual. By mid-morning word had got out that Doc Martin was in a foul mood and three of his patients decided to see if Mrs Tishell could help them and had cancelled their appointments.

As a result, Martin finished his surgery by twelve-fifteen,

'Pauline, any messages?'

'Chris Parsons rang. He said could you ring him back.'

'Good. Ring him back and tell him I'm visiting Miss Glasson this afternoon. He can find me there.'

'Yes, Doctor Ellingham.'

'Any home visits?'

'No, but Mrs Tishell has got the supplies you ordered.'

'Good, I'll collect them now. I'll be back at four.'

'Tell Louisa we're all looking forward to seeing her.'

Martin gave Pauline a baffled look; she'd seen Louisa just two days ago when Bert had driven her into Truro. He looked at Pauline closely. She seemed fine but he'd have to monitor her closely; memory loss at her age could be a symptom of several serious illnesses.

Martin walked rapidly down the hill, ignoring the teenage girls sarcastic comments,

'Hey Doc! Get out of bed the wrong side this morning?'

'He's just grumpy 'cause he's not getting any.'

'At his age? He probably only does it once a year anyway.'

At the last comment, Martin smiled inwardly. He had never considered himself to be a passionate man. Then he met Louisa and she turned his ideas about himself upside down; when he was with Louisa he had to stop himself from constantly touching and kissing her and his libido had dramatically increased.

He went into the pharmacy and went directly to the counter. Mrs Tishell broke off from her conversation with two tourists and hurried over to him,

'Doctor Ellingham. How wonderful to see you. What can I get you?'

'I've come to collect my order.'

'Of course, Doctor. I'm afraid that there are still some items outstanding. I have complained but I'm afraid that they weren't very helpful.'

'Can we use a different supplier?'

'I'm not sure. Would you like me to look into it?'

'Yes.'

Mrs Tishell handed Martin a large parcel, saying,

'Of course, Doctor. Anything I can do to help. And how's Peter today?'

'Fine.'

'Such an intelligent child. Just like his father.'

Embarrassed, Martin left but not quickly enough to avoid hearing Mrs Tishell explaining to the tourists,

'Such a wonderful doctor. We are _so_ lucky to have him. And so handsome too.'

Aunty Joan was waiting for him in the kitchen at the farm and had made them soup for lunch. They ate together in silence. Martin was anxious to get to Louisa as quickly as possible and Joan saw no reason for pointless chatter. It was only after he'd finished eating that Martin broke the silence,

'Are you still able to look after Peter this afternoon?'

'Of course, Marty. You know I'll have him any time.'

'Well, if you're sure, I'll drop him off at approximately three thirty-five.'

Joan smiled but didn't say anything; only Martin could view three thirty-five as an approximate time.

'Give my love to Louisa.'

Martin didn't reply, pretending to be busy strapping Peter into his car seat.

'Why don't you take her in something to read? Her eyes are virtually back to normal now.'

'I don't want to go back to the house. There isn't time.'

'Pick her up a paper and some magazines at the hospital.'

'I probably won't have time.'

'Give her this, anyway,' said Aunty Joan, handing Martin a carrier bag.

Martin looked at the plastic containers inside the bag disdainfully,

'What is it?'

'Some sandwiches and fruit. You know the food in there's awful.'

Martin put the bag in the boot along with Peter's nappy bag and pushchair.

Having parked in the gynaecologist's parking space again, Martin unpacked the boot, set up Peter's pushchair then gently transferred Peter to the pushchair. For the first time, he managed to move Peter without waking him. Feeling smug, he strode into the hospital.

Once inside the hospital, he handed his car keys to the receptionist who accepted them with resignation,

'Whose spot are you in, Doctor Ellingham?'

'Mr Mitchell's. I thought I'd use his whenever I come since he never appears to be here. No doubt he lets the women of Cornwall suffer at the hands of his half-trained juniors whilst he plays golf.'

For the first time a flicker of understanding showed in the receptionist's eyes,

'Mr Mitchell's space is usually empty,' she agreed.

On the way to the lift, Martin noticed the hospital shop. He hesitated before pushing the pushchair into the shop. The shop had a reasonable selection of newspapers but only a few magazines that Martin would consider reading. Most of them appeared to be about celebrities and fashion. Sighing, Martin settled for New Scientist and The Economist. He added a copy of The Times to the pile and went to pay.

A few minutes later, Martin walked into Louisa's ward. As he drew close to Louisa's bed he was shocked to see a familiar face. Danny was sat beside Louisa holding her hand in both of his and gazing deeply into her eyes. As Martin got closer he heard Danny say,

'It would make me so happy if you said yes.'


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Eight

For a brief moment, Martin wanted nothing more than to run away. How could he compete with Danny who was tactful, sensitive and charming? He was also a pompous idiot, in Martin's opinion, but it didn't seem to bother Louisa. After all, they'd been to school together so Louisa must know him well, much better than she and Martin knew each other. Louisa was bound to prefer Danny. What woman wouldn't?  
Except, she hadn't wanted Danny before so perhaps there was a chance that she wouldn't this time either. Frozen to the spot, Martin waited anxiously to hear Louisa's answer,

'I can ask Martin but I think it's unlikely.'

Weak with relief, Martin realised that he'd misunderstood. Shaking, he tried to look unconcerned as he continued towards Louisa's bed.  
As he got closer, Louisa saw him and pulled her hand away from Danny and held it out to him,

'Martin, you're here.'

Martin parked the pushchair beside the bed and put the brake on before taking Louisa's hand. Glancing up, he saw the jealousy in Danny's eyes and deliberately leant down and kissed Louisa lightly on the lips,

'Hello, Louisa. Danny.'

'I'll be off then,' said Danny, getting to his feet.

'Bye, Danny. Thanks for coming in,' said Louisa.

'Think about my suggestion.'

There was a note of command in Danny's voice, which made Martin's hackles rise and he was about to make a rude comment, when Louisa said, shortly,

'We'll let you know what we decide.'

'Sure. Nice to see you again, Martin.'

Martin gave a non-committal grunt but resisted the temptation to tell Danny that if he wanted to see pricks he'd have specialised in urology. Aunty Joan had explained to him, in the bluntest way possible, that insulting Louisa's friends was a good way to end up sleeping alone again.  
Once Danny had gone, Martin asked,

'What did he want?'

'He wants us to have Peter christened and he wants to be one of his godfather's.'

'No. Absolutely not.'

'That's what I said but he went on and on about it until I agreed to discuss it with you.'

'Why?' asked Martin, completely baffled.

'Because he thinks that as a doctor you're bound to believe in the afterlife.'

'What? Utter nonsense!'

'I know. I told him that you think it's all superstitious claptrap but he just ignored me. That's always been Danny's problem; he thinks that everyone should agree with him.'

'I noticed.'

'And he's been much worse since he's found God. He used to be okay. A bit annoying at times but now he's convinced that he knows the answers to everything and he can't wait to tell you what you're doing wrong.'

'Ridiculous.'

'Yes, and he seems to be losing his grip on reality too. He told me that Anthony Oakwood's death was divine retribution for straying from the Bible's teachings.'

'Divine retribution! Complete codswallop! What happened to Anthony Oakwood had nothing to do with any deity that might or might not exist.'

'So it was murder?'

'You know I'm not allowed to talk about it, Louisa,' said Martin, reprovingly.

'Sorry, Martin. I forgot. Will you have to give evidence at the inquest?'

'Yes.'

To Martin's relief, Louisa dropped the topic of Anthony Oakwood's death and instead asked how Joan was,

'She's fine. She sent you some food.'

Martin stretched across to the pushchair and grabbed the carrier bag of food. As he pulled back, he misjudged the angle and knocked the paper and magazines down on top of Peter who woke and started crying. Flustered, Martin rushed to get Peter out, chucking the paper and magazines haphazardly onto the bed. Martin picked Peter up and anxiously checked to see if he was hurt,

'It's all right. I'm sorry…sorry.'

At the sound and sight of Martin, Peter started to calm down and by the time Martin had checked him for scratches, he had stopped crying. Relieved, Martin turned to Louisa, expecting her to be furious. Instead she was smiling gently.

'He's not hurt,' said Martin, still feeling guilty.

'No, he's fine. Who are the magazines for?'

'You. Aunty Joan suggested that you might like something to read. The selection in the hospital shop was rather limited so…um…if you don't like them it'll be fine.'

'No, they're fine. I'll be glad to have something to read.'

'Good. The…uh…paper is for you too.'

'Thank you, Martin. I'll read them later.'

'Would you like to hold Peter now?'

'Yes.'

Martin handed Peter to Louisa and sat silently whilst she talked to Peter, happy to stand by in case Peter wriggled out of her grasp.

About twenty minutes later Chris Parsons arrived,

'Hello, Martin, could I have a word?'

'Yes,' said Martin without moving.

'My office would be better.'

'No it wouldn't; I can't leave Louisa alone with Peter with her level of disability. What do you want?'

'I want to know why you have removed all your patients from Mrs Saunders list.'

'Because she's an insensitive incompetent idiot who should be emptying bed pans or cleaning floors rather than subjecting patients to her imbecilities.'

'No she isn't.'

'Yes she is. She told a severely traumatised patient that they were making a fuss.'

Chris flinched,

'Who did she say that to?'

'Chelsey Baker. This was after suggesting that she should pretend that watching Jack and Laura die was just a bad dream.'

'That's atrocious!'

Chris was clearly horrified and Martin felt grimly pleased by his reaction,

'I'm not a qualified counsellor but even I know better than that.'

'I'll talk to her.'

'None of my patients are ever being treated by her.'

'Right, but who are you going to send them to?'

'I'll think about it,' replied Martin curtly, knowing that effective counsellors were always very busy and it might be very hard to find someone good enough for his patients.  
Thinking about counselling reminded him that time was passing rapidly. A look at his watch confirmed that it was time to leave.

'I've got to get back for evening surgery.'

Chris left and Martin took Peter from Louisa and awkwardly said goodbye. Peter was not happy to leave Louisa and cried until they were half way back to Port Wenn.

Evening surgery started smoothly and promptly at five Martin ushered Chelsey and her mother into his consulting room,

'Come through. Take a seat.'

Martin had pulled his chair out from behind the desk to try to help Chelsey relax. Once they were all sat down, he asked Chelsey,

'How have you been today?'

'The same,' replied Chelsey, listlessly.

'Have you eaten?'

'I had some lunch.'

'What about breakfast?'

'No,' whispered Chelsey.

'I just can't get her to eat it, Doctor,' said Mrs Baker anxiously, 'and it's her favourite too.'

'What are you giving her?'

'Coco Pops. She's loved them for years.'

Martin looked at Chelsey who had drawn her knees up so her feet were on the seat and had her arms wrapped around her knees.

'Why didn't you eat your Coco Pops?'

'I tried.'

Chelsey's voice was choked with tears and she started rocking backwards and forwards. Martin kept his voice as gentle as possible as he asked,

'Why couldn't you eat them?'

At first Martin thought that Chelsey wasn't going to reply but then she swallowed hard and said,

'I…I keep thinking about Laura. She came on a sleepover for my birthday and in the morning we had a Coco Pops race. Emily measured us the same amount of milk and Coco Pops each and we had a race to see who could finish first. We got Coco Pops everywhere and Laura laughed so much that milk came out of her nose. And now she's dead.'

The last word came out as a wail and Martin sat and watched helplessly as Chelsey and her mother cried.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Nine

Martin had watched Chelsey Baker and her mother cry and when they had stopped he had suggested eggs for breakfast, aware as he did so that he was treating the symptoms rather than the underlying issues. Chelsey's mother had thanked him as they left making him feel even more inadequate. Pauline had gone and he should be making his way back to the cottage but he had stayed in his consulting room, thinking. Thinking about guilt and how illogical it was. He felt guilty that Louisa was in hospital and that he couldn't do anything to help her. Joe Penhale felt guilty that Anthony Oakwood had been murdered even though it was a miracle that Oakwood hadn't been murdered before. And Chelsey Baker felt guilty that she was alive when her best friend had died and Martin was determined that she and the other children would deal with their guilt and their grief and their anger properly.  
Deep in thought, he reached for the phone and dialled,

'Hello.'

'Martin Ellingham here. I have a project in hand that you might be interested in…'

By the time Martin reached the cottage, Aunty Joan was already there, expertly feeding Peter,

'There you are, Marty. You're late.'

'I had patients to see.'

'Well I've got chickens that need to be in their coop before dark. If you're going to be late you have to let me know. Have you talked to Louisa about what she wants to do when she's home?'

'What?' asked Martin, looking confused.

'What does she want to do about childcare for Peter? I'm happy to have Peter at the farm but Louisa won't want to spend every day there and I can't run a bed and breakfast if I'm spending every day here.'

It was on the tip of Martin's tongue to suggest that she let him pay her for taking care of Peter but Joan forestalled him, saying,

'I won't take any money from you, Marty. Peter's the closest I'll ever get to having a grandson and I want to help. But I don't want Louisa to think I'm trying to take over. You need to talk to her.'

'Yes.'

Satisfied, Joan gave Martin and Peter a kiss each and left to take care of her chickens.

Martin finished feeding and winding Peter then put him down on a blanket with some toys. At three and a half months, Peter was taking an active interest in the world around him. At the moment he could only reach for things but soon he would be sitting, then moving and by then anything fragile or dangerous would need to be safely locked away.

As he cooked his supper, Martin thought about what Aunty Joan had said; Louisa wouldn't be able to manage by herself for some time so they would need to get some childcare organised. It was very unlikely that Louisa would want to spend all day every day with Aunty Joan on the farm. And there were his evenings on call to consider. At the moment a locum was taking his on call but the PCT would want to end that as soon as Louisa was out of hospital. He decided to ask Pauline if there was anyone in the village with childcare qualifications.

After supper, Martin gave Peter a bath, remembering this time to take his jacket and tie off first. The first time he had bathed Peter he had left them on and both had been ruined; Peter liked making as much noise as he could by splashing as hard as possible. Louisa had invested in an extra large bath mat a few days after he was born.  
He had just finished putting a fresh nappy on his dry, clean son when the doorbell rang. Muttering under his breath, he wrapped Peter in a dry towel and carried him downstairs. Opening the door, Martin was not pleased to see Joe Penhale,

'Penhale. What do you want?'

'Can I come in, Doc? Rather a delicate matter to discuss and I don't want to be overheard. Walls have ears you know.'

'No they don't.'

'Not literally, no, but hypothetically speaking you never know who might be eavesdropping.'

Martin looked along the road outside the cottage. It was eight-thirty on a chilly October evening; the road was completely empty.

'Spies everywhere?' he asked, sardonically.

'There's plenty of people would like to know what I've got planned next,' replied Penhale, seriously.

Realising that he wasn't going to get rid of Penhale quickly, Martin reluctantly let him in and led him into the lounge. Once they were sat down, Penhale seemed to forget why he'd come and spent several minutes saying how glad he was that Martin and Louisa had 'made up their differences' and how lucky Louisa was to have Martin. Sighing, Martin reflected that it was just like Penhale to get things the wrong way round; he was lucky to have Louisa. Cutting into Penhale's rhapsodies over Peter, which sounded ridiculously like Mrs Tishell's comments, Martin said,

'What do you want?'

'I've come up with a plan to ensure people's safety within Port Wenn but I need your help.'

'What with?'

'Well, what I thought was, in the light of recent events, that I should put up CCTV cameras throughout Port Wenn.'

'Isn't that a bit extreme?'

'I realise that to the layman it might seem like that but we've had six deaths in the village recently and that's six deaths too many.'

'How would having CCTV cameras have stopped Sam Oakwood from stealing that four by four?'

'Deterrent, Doc. Knowing they're observed acts as a powerful deterrent to the average criminal.'

'Knowing he was observed didn't act as a deterrent to Sam. Most of the time he wanted you to know what he'd done. And how would CCTV cameras have stopped Anthony Oakwood from being murdered. Anyone who was going to commit a murder would take care to avoid any CCTV cameras.'

'That's why I'm aiming for one hundred percent coverage.'

'One hundred percent coverage?'

'Yes, that's why I need you, Doc. Obviously it would be inappropriate for me to view footage from within people's bathrooms or bedrooms in case they were naked, whereas as a doctor, it would be perfectly acceptable for you to see them whatever they were wearing.'

'What! Have you been taking your medication?'

'Of course I have. So would you be willing to spend a few hours each day viewing footage from people's bedrooms and bathrooms?'

'Of course I wouldn't! What you're suggesting is an outrageous breach of trust and is also illegal!'

'I appreciate that there are a few minor details still to be worked out…'

'A few minor details! And how much was this hideous invasion of privacy going to cost the village?'

'Well I haven't done a full costing but I think it'll be about three million pounds.'

Martin stared at Penhale in disbelief. Yes, Penhale was always a bit odd and common sense seemed to have totally passed him by, but Martin was starting to think that he needed to be Sectioned,

'You're not well. Make an appointment and come and see me tomorrow.'

'No, really, Doc, I'm fine.'

Penhale was twitching now and wringing his hands. Gently, Martin said,

'Come and see me tomorrow and I'll find out what's wrong.'

'I know what's wrong.'

'Really? What?'

'I didn't mean to…but I think I may have killed Anthony Oakwood.'


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Ten

Martin stared at Penhale in disbelief,

'What do you mean; you think you may have killed Anthony Oakwood? Either you killed him or you didn't.'

'Yes, well, the thing is, I saw him the day before he died and he was being so annoying that I thought to myself that I'd like to kill him. And the next day, there's a big blank in my memory from eleven o'clock until one o'clock.'

'You fell asleep I expect. Where were you when you woke up?'

'At my desk in the police station.'

'We probably need to review your medication. But that doesn't explain why you think you killed Anthony Oakwood.'

'Sleepwalking, Doc. What if I killed him in my sleep?'

'Nonsense!'

'Or what if, I killed him and then blanked it out of my mind?'

'Highly unlikely. That only happens when the murderer is extremely traumatised, usually because they've killed a close family member.'

'But you can't rule it out. There was no sign of a struggle, which means that Mr Oakwood was killed by someone he trusted. Someone who was strong enough to overpower him quickly. That's me.'

'Firstly, we won't know what happened until the autopsy's been completed and forensics have finished analysing the scene. Secondly, it's highly unlikely that you could have overpowered Anthony Oakwood without there being any signs of a struggle.'

'What if I knocked him out using my truncheon?'

'There'd have been head trauma and there wasn't. You didn't kill him. Go home and get some rest. It's time for Peter's last feed…And make an appointment to have a blood test.'

Still protesting his guilt, Penhale reluctantly left.

Martin gave Peter his last bottle of the day and put him to bed. Later, he took out one of his medical journals but found himself thinking about Penhale's confession instead; utter nonsense but could Penhale be using it as a double bluff? Did he kill Anthony Oakwood whilst fully aware of his actions and could he now be trying to lay the ground for a plea of diminished responsibility? But Penhale was as transparent as glass and had about as much brain activity as a mouse in a coma. No, it was inconceivable that Penhale could have planned such an elaborate justification. Surely?

The next morning, Martin got to the surgery early, determined to get some jobs done before the first patients arrived. To his surprise, Pauline had already opened up. When he walked in, Pauline started guiltily and tried to hide what she was doing. Without a word, Martin held out his hand. Pauline reluctantly passed him the piece of paper in her hand, saying,

'I'm sorry, Doctor Ellingham. I forgot to do it yesterday.'

Martin looked at the piece of paper in his hand and was surprised to see that it was the lab sheet to go with some blood samples. Since becoming practice phlebotomist, Pauline had been very efficient. The only lapse had been when she had been a gambling addict. He looked at her sharply,

'Are you still going to your Gamblers Anonymous meetings?'

'Yes, Doctor. I'm not gambling again, I promise. I just can't seem to remember anything at the moment.'

Martin looked at Pauline closely, noticing that she had used make-up to conceal the bags under her eyes,

'Hmm. You look tired. Any insomnia?'

'I keep waking up early. Five-thirty most mornings.'

'Any physical reason? Do you need to urinate or move your bowels? Are you hungry or thirsty?'

'No.'

'Any pain or stiffness?'

'No, I'm just wide awake and I can't get back to sleep. Even at the weekend it's the same; I'm awake by six no matter how late I've gone to bed.'

'And you're not suffering from indigestion or heartburn, even very mildly?'

'No.'

'It's probably stress but I think it would be a good idea to do some blood tests just in case.'

Martin swallowed, realising that he would have to take Pauline's blood. Knowing that waiting would make it worse, he said,

'Come through and I'll do it now.'

Pauline followed him into the converted storeroom where she took blood and sat on the chair. Bracing himself, Martin found a suitable vein, swabbed her skin and inserted the needle. Squinting out of the corner of his eyes at the syringe, Martin drew up enough blood for the tests he needed. By the time he'd withdrawn the needle and put cotton wool on Pauline's arm, Martin was shaking and feeling nauseous. He dropped the needle into the tray, saying,

'Full bloods please, Pauline, including thyroid and liver function.'

He left Pauline to put the blood into tubes and do the paperwork, eager to be away from the blood.

Surgery that morning was mostly routine though Martin still found his time being wasted by malingerers. Surely even the inbred cretins who lived in Port Wenn should have realised by now that he was not a soft touch for a sick note. Yet he still had people come though the door thinking that they could get away with faking their symptoms despite being too stupid to realise that Doctor Rogers in Wadebridge was far more likely to give them a sick note than Martin was.

At twelve, Martin went to collect the repeat prescriptions from Pauline, intending to sign them quickly before collecting Peter from Aunty Joan. Pauline had just picked up her bag ready to go for lunch, when the surgery door opened.

Her automatic, 'Sorry, we're closed,' died on her lips as Mrs Jenkins came into the surgery.

Mrs Jenkins paused just inside the door, saying,

'I'm sorry to come at the end of surgery but it's urgent.'

'That's all right. Isn't it, Doc?'

'Yes,' agreed Martin, curiously, 'Can you find Mrs Jenkins notes, please.'

'Yes, Doctor Ellingham.'

Martin waited impatiently whilst Pauline found Mrs Jenkins notes then said,

'Come through.'

Once Mrs Jenkins had sat down in his consulting room, Martin took out her notes and read the last entry; Mrs Jenkins had needed some antibiotics for a chest infection in March 1987. Prior to that she had come to see Doctor Sims in 1973 with a fungal infection of her toenails.

'What seems to be the problem?'

'I'm fine but I came to see you because I didn't know what else to do. It's Bert Large; I'm worried that he might have killed Anthony Oakwood.'


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Author's note: I don't know anything about NHS budgets so I made it up. Please review. :)

Chapter Eleven

Martin stared at Mrs Jenkins in amazement,

'You think _Bert Large_ killed Anthony Oakwood?'

'Yes. He came to see me today and was behaving very strangely.'

'Bert always behaves strangely. Usually because he's doing something shady.'

'True, but this wasn't like this.'

'Go on.'

'I'm a very old woman, Doctor, and I've seen people behave in all sorts of peculiar ways. You wouldn't believe some of the things people in this village have done.'

'Yes, I would. You forget, I've been the GP here for over three years now.'

'Yes, well, I've known Bert since he was born and his behaviour today was seriously abnormal…and I thought he seemed to be feeling guilty about something.'

'Abnormal how?'

'I offered him a piece of cake and he turned it down.'

Martin waited for Mrs Jenkins to continue but she seemed to think that she had told Martin all he needed to know. Martin looked at Mrs Jenkins closely. Her colour was good and the facial muscles were all working correctly so it was unlikely to be a stroke. Most likely it was the onset of dementia, hardly surprising in a woman of her age. Martin cleared his throat and asked,

'Can you tell me what day of the week it is?'

'Friday.'

'Good. And the name of the current Prime Minister?'

'David Cameron.'

'And can you remember when the Second World War ended?'

'Nineteen forty-five. And I can remember my name and what time it is too, Doctor. I'm not senile, not yet.'

'No, you don't appear to be,' replied Martin, embarrassed.

'The last time Bert Large refused a piece of my homemade cake he was still wearing nappies. And he didn't ask for the recipe either.'

'Does he normally?'

'Always. Six months ago he offered to buy the recipe so he could serve it in his restaurant.'

'Hmm...'

'He asked me to explain the difference between morals and ethics to him.'

Martin gazed at Mrs Jenkins in astonishment; he wouldn't have expected Bert Large to know that there was a difference between the two, let alone want to discuss it.

'And did you?'

'Yes but when I asked him why he wanted to know he said that he was just curious and left immediately. I could tell that he was lying, Doctor, and he was also feeling guilty about something.'

'Yes but knowing Bert he could have any number of morally questionable deals on the go. Maybe someone wants to hire his boat to bring in illegal immigrants?'

'Perhaps but it was more than that; he didn't discuss the murder at all. The whole village is discussing it but Bert, who is one of the biggest gossips I've ever met, didn't mention it and when I said something, he changed the subject immediately.'

'Odd,' conceded Martin, 'but he was very shocked by finding the body.'

'He is quite a sensitive man but why would he feel guilty?'

'I don't know and really, Mrs Jenkins, if you haven't got a medical condition, you'll have to leave.'

'Sorry, Doctor but I really am worried about Bert. Will you check that he's all right?'

'Of course,' replied Martin, happy to agree since he already had Bert on his visits list.

As he ushered Mrs Jenkins out, Martin sighed. He wasn't going to be able to make it to Truro today. He'd have to ask Aunty Joan to take Peter in to see Louisa. Thank goodness Louisa was coming home soon; he hated only seeing her for an odd hour here and there. Why the useless idiots who populated Port Wenn couldn't go for two days in a row without having some sort of medical crisis was beyond him. Perhaps he should start giving lectures on basic hygiene and healthy living although he'd have to make sure that he kept them very simple; the stupidity of some of his patients was quite staggering.  
Looking at the large number of prescriptions waiting for him to check and sign, Martin realised that he wasn't even going to have time to have lunch with Aunty Joan and Peter. As he dialled Aunty Joan's number, Martin felt a sharp pang of disappointment and immediately suppressed it.

'Hello.'

'Aunty Joan, I'm not going to be able to come for lunch or go to the hospital. Can you take Peter in to see Louisa?'

'All right but I've got to go and visit Mary later so I'll have to drop him off at the surgery promptly at five-thirty.'

'Fine.'

Martin hung up and started going through the prescriptions. By the time he'd finished and had a quick sandwich and a coffee, it was two o'clock. Leaving the prescriptions on Pauline's desk, he checked his visiting list and set off.

His first patient was an elderly diabetic woman who kept having problems because she refused to keep to her diet sheet. The dietician had described her as uncooperative and had refused to visit again so Martin was going to try to make her understand that she had to eat sensibly now. When he reached her house he found her sitting in front of the television watching an Australian soap and eating chocolates.

'Mrs Carter! What are you doing? You stupid woman! Don't you know those could kill you?'

'I am _not_ a stupid woman! These are diabetic chocolates.'

'Oh…well…that's all right then. May I see the ingredients?'

Mrs Carter handed him the box without hesitation and Martin quickly checked the ingredients before handing the box back,

'They're sweetened with malitol which has a laxative effect when eaten to excess so I should restrict yourself to two or three a day, if I were you.'

'Yes, Doc. Would you like one?'

'No. The dietician tells me you won't take his advice.'

'No, because he talks nonsense.'

'No he doesn't!'

'Yes he does. He wanted me to eat wholemeal everything and only organic. I don't have to have wholemeal everything, you know that as well as I do, and I told him that if he wants me to eat organic foods then he'll have to write me out a prescription for them because I can't afford them. No common sense at all.'

Martin sighed. Much as he hated to admit it, Mrs Carter was right; it was glycaemic index that mattered not whether or not something was wholemeal or organic. He was going to have to ring Chris Parsons again.

'Will you let me do you a sheet with recommendations on it?'

'It won't just have fish and salad on it, will it?' asked Mrs Carter, anxiously.

'No. Are you eating at the same time every day?'

'Yes. And I've switched over to artificial sweetener in my tea. It doesn't taste as nice.'

'Good. And how are you getting on with the insulin injections?'

'Not too bad though my thigh is a bit sore.'

'Show me.'

Mrs Carter raised her skirt so Martin could see the inside of her thigh. It took him only a few seconds to realise that an abscess had formed,

'I'll have to lance that and give you some antibiotics. You'll need to do the injections elsewhere for a few days. Either the other thigh or your stomach.'

'Yes, Doctor.'

Mrs Carter's voice was uncharacteristically meek and Martin shot her a suspicious look,

'How did it get infected? Have you been using a new needle each time?'

'They had an article on the news about how much money was spent on diabetes each year so I thought I could save the NHS some money by re-using my needles. I cleaned them each time,' said Mrs Carter, defensively.

'That would only work if you sterilised them.'

'How would I do that then?'

'Boiling or using a sterilising solution. But you should use a new needle each time. The main costs to the NHS come from complications arising from diabetes, all of which can be avoided by following my advice.'

'Yes Doctor.'

'Hmm…how are your bowels?'

'Same as always.'

'You remember that you should call me if you're unusually thirsty or tired or if you have any vomiting, diarrhoea or dizziness.'

'Yes, Doctor. Ouch!'

Martin finished cleaning the abscess, ignoring Mrs Carter's grumbling. By the time he had finished the mixture of blood and pus had him swallowing hard against his nausea and he left quickly, promising to drop Mrs Carter's prescription into Mrs Tishell's for her.

Next, Martin went to check on Bert Large. He found Bert in the kitchen at the restaurant, gazing discontentedly at a bowl containing something brown and gooey.

'Hello, Doc. Come for lunch?'

'No. How are you feeling today?'

'A bit down, to be honest, Doc. I mean look at that. Would you want to eat it?'

Bert held the bowl out to Martin. Martin shuddered,

'No. Any more panic attacks?'

'What? Oh, no, I'm fine. I just wish I could come up with a wonderful idea for my pudding. What about chocolate and apple?'

Martin felt his nausea returning,

'No. Did you sleep all right?'

'Absolutely. No trouble whatsoever. In fact I'm fit as a fiddle. Nothing like having something to work on to distract you. In fact, I could do with getting back to work now.'

Martin looked at Bert, noting the bags under his eyes and the very slight tremor in his hands. Mrs Jenkins was right; Bert was very worried about something. However, he clearly wasn't willing to talk about it yet.

'I'd like to see you in a couple of days. I'll get Pauline to make you an appointment.'

'No need, Doc. I'm fine.'

Martin was about to tell Bert that he was a half-witted yokel with the intelligence of a frog, when he was interrupted by Pauline running down the restaurant steps, screaming,

'Doc! Doc! Come quickly. Mrs Oakwood's just thrown a chair at Joe Penhale. He's arrested her but she's gone completely Bodmin!'


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Twelve

'Where is she?' demanded Martin.

'At the Police Station,' replied Pauline.

Martin grabbed his bag and ran across the terrace and up the steps. Screaming, 'Get out of the way, you idiots!' he raced through the village.  
Inside the station, he found Penhale frantically trying to calm down Teri Oakwood. Teri was crying hysterically and cradling her left arm in her right hand.

'Calm down, it's all right,' said Penhale, trying to sound commanding but merely sounding harassed.

Martin ignored Penhale and went to stand in front of Teri Oakwood,

'Mrs Oakwood, are you hurt?'

Teri Oakwood looked up at Martin and he struggled to maintain his professional façade; her eyes were full of confusion and fear and sweat was running down her face. She seemed more like an animal at bay than a human being.

Speaking slowly, Martin tried to penetrate the layers of emotion to reach the woman beneath,

'You need to take some deep breaths. Can you do that for me?'

At first Martin thought that she hadn't heard him, but then Teri took a shuddering deep breath and then another. Her crying began to subside and Martin saw the intelligence return to her eyes. He waited until she had mopped her eyes and blown her nose before asking again,

'Are you hurt?'

'Yes, I think my arm's broken.'

'Show me.'

Teri Oakwood obediently held out her left arm to Martin. A superficial examination led Martin to conclude that Teri was right. It would need to be confirmed by x-ray, but Martin had no doubt at all that Teri Oakwood's arm was broken.

Martin turned to Penhale and asked him, furiously,

'What did you do?'

'Nothing. I just took her by the arm, she pulled away, I tried to get a firmer grip and suddenly she screamed. I let go and she threw a chair at me and then started crying.'

Martin listened to Penhale with increasing disquiet; the brief contact Penhale described was inconsistent with Teri's injury. Martin quickly examined Teri and discovered that her pulse was too fast, her breathing was rapid and shallow and she was still sweating. She needed to be got to hospital urgently and away from Penhale immediately. Martin sighed inwardly; he really needed to do some research before Chelsey's next counselling session but he couldn't leave Teri Oakwood here.

'I'll take Mrs Oakwood to Truro to have her arm x-rayed.'

'I ought to do that, she is under arrest so technically she shouldn't leave my sight.'

'No. I'll take her. You stay here and catch up on your paperwork.'

Penhale looked mutinous,

'She's in my custody. She can't leave it without my permission.'

'You've broken her arm! Your permission is irrelevant. She's coming with me.'

Penhale flinched at Martin's blunt reminder,

'I didn't mean to.'

Penhale sounded remorseful and Martin reminded himself that it wasn't Penhale's fault that he was unbelievably stupid; he'd been born that way.

'If we don't get her to a hospital as quickly as possible, you're certain to lose your job. As it is, you'll be lucky not to end up in Court charged with assault.'

'B...but….'

Martin ignored Penhale's incoherent stammering and gently led Teri Oakwood out of the Police Station.

Outside, a small crowd had gathered and Martin was relieved to see Bert amongst the onlookers,

'Bert!'

'Yes, Doc?'

'Look after Mrs Oakwood for me whilst I bring my car down.'

'Ah, well, actually Doc, I need to be getting back.'

As he spoke, Bert edged away from Martin and headed back towards the restaurant, moving faster than Martin would have believed possible.

'In-bred cretin', muttered Martin, looking for someone else to take care of Teri. Janet Saul was about to go in to the greengrocer's so Martin reluctantly called her over and asked her to look after Teri.

'Her left arm's broken and she's behaving erratically. I just need you to stop her from wandering off while I get my car.'

'Certainly Doctor Ellingham.'

Martin got his car and went back to where Teri Oakwood was standing stock still in front of Janet Saul. Taking a sling from his bag, Martin got out of the car,

'Thank you, Miss Saul.'

'Not at all, Doctor. She was no trouble. Seems very biddable.'

Martin put the sling on Teri's arm and helped her into the car, noting that she had stopped sweating and seemed lethargic and uninterested.

When they were about half way to Truro, Martin turned to Teri and said,

'Tell me what happened.'

'PC Penhale came to my house and said that the detective inspector wanted to ask me some more questions so I went to the Police Station with him. We waited for about half an hour but the inspector didn't come so I decided to go home. PC Penhale tried to stop me. He grabbed my arm. I tried to pull away but he held me really tightly. We struggled and that's when my arm broke.'

'What? Just like that?'

'Well, yes.'

Puzzled, Martin thought for a minute before asking,

'Are you vegan or vegetarian?'

'Vegetarian. Anthony said that a vegan diet wouldn't be healthy for Sam.'

'He was right. What are your main sources of protein?'

'Well, we…I mean I, have nuts, cheese and beans mostly. Though we…I have fish once or twice a week. It's all right because fish don't feel pain.'

'Hmm…Do you drink milk or eat yoghurts?'

'Oh, yes. Anthony was always going on at me to have more calcium.'

'Good. However, I think it would still be wise to get your bone density checked. I'll get them to do it while you're here.'

'Bone density? Really?'

'Yes.'

Martin put as much authority as possible into his voice and was relieved when Teri subsided.

When they got to the hospital, Martin parked in his usual space and helped Teri Oakwood into the Casualty Department. Once she was logged in and had sat down, Martin went to find the duty doctor. It was the same junior doctor whom Martin had caught trying to counsel Chelsey in the middle of Casualty. Martin grit his teeth as the doctor smiled at him,

'Doctor Ellingham. Good to see you again, Sir.'

'You've got a Mrs Oakwood in the waiting room. Suspected broken arm. She may have brittle bone disease so I need her bone density done. And while you're at it, I want full bloods done including a tox screen.'

'Tox screen?'

'Screen her blood for toxins. Didn't you pass your pharmacology exams?'

'I know what a tox screen is! I wondered why you think she needs one?'

'Someone murdered her husband earlier this week and I want to make sure that she isn't next. So stop trying to be intelligent and do as you're told.'

'Yes, doctor.'

Martin left without another word and went to the waiting room. Teri Oakwood was fidgeting nervously as she waited to be called.

'I've spoken to the doctor about the tests that need to be done. Get the Casualty Sister to call me when you're ready to leave.'

'Yes, doctor.'

Martin left Casualty and made his way through the hospital to the women's wards, delighted that he was going to see Louisa after all. As he got closer to her ward, he found himself unconsciously speeding up until he was almost jogging along the corridors.

As he entered the ward, he was puzzled to see a group of people around Louisa's bed. Going closer he was annoyed to realise that one of the people was Danny. Danny was sat on the bed next to Louisa and had his arm around her shoulders. With a sense of shock, Martin realised that one of the other men was a vicar in full regalia.

Feeling sick, Martin was about to retreat when he heard Louisa's voice, saying furiously,

'No, I won't!'


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Thirteen

Galvanised by the fury in Louisa's voice, Martin rushed forwards,

'What's going on?'

Martin pushed past the vicar, who was holding Peter in his arms, and glared at Danny. Danny smiled nonchalantly at Martin, saying,

'I got the vicar to bring everything needed for the Christening. I thought it would be nice for Lou to get it done while she's off work.'

'Wha…'

Martin's exclamation was cut short by Louisa who had listened in stunned disbelief to Danny's glib explanation,

'No you didn't! You thought that by bringing everything here, you could embarrass me into agreeing. And when that didn't work, you tried to bully me. I don't want to have Peter Christened and if I did, I would have it done by our vicar in Port Wenn not by some stranger in a hospital!'

As she spoke, Louisa pushed Danny hard and, to Martin's delight, he slid off the bed and landed in an undignified heap on the floor. As Danny clambered to his feet, Martin stepped in front of him, incandescent with rage,

'Leave! Now! Or I'll call Security.'

Danny opened his mouth to protest but the vicar spoke first,

'We are leaving and may I say that I would never have agreed to come if I had known that the child's mother did not want her son Christened. I apologise for any distress my being here may have caused you; Christianity is about leading people to salvation not about bullying them into agreeing with you.'

With that, the vicar handed Peter to Martin and left. The remaining man, whom Martin vaguely recognised, grabbed Danny's arm and started to pull him away. The woman paused to say,

'He told us that you didn't want a fuss because of everything that's happened recently. Sorry, Louisa.'

'It's not your fault. I don't know what's got into Danny lately.'

'Jealous probably.'

'Jealous? Why?'

'Because you've got a good job, a child and a partner. He's got a better paying job than you but you're beating him on everything else. He hasn't even got a girlfriend at the moment. You know how competitive he is; he's supposed to be able to lord it over you and he can't.'

'That's no excuse for the way he's been behaving.'

'No. Still, Mark will be setting him straight; he goes mad when friends lie to him. In fact, I'd better go and find them before Danny makes him lose his temper and Mark clobbers him.'

Martin resisted the temptation to suggest that she should stay for a while longer, reminding himself that as a doctor he was opposed to violence, though it was reassuring to know that he wasn't the only one who found Danny infuriating.

After the woman had hurried off, Louisa sighed and shook her head,

'Why can't Danny just accept that I'm not going to let him order me around?'

'Because he's still hoping to get back together with you.'

For a moment, Martin thought that Louisa was going to tell him not to be ridiculous but instead she said,

'Perhaps you're right. It would explain why he's been acting so weirdly.'

Martin had always found Danny's behaviour annoying but not actually weird. Against his will, he found his medical training kicking in,

'How long has he been acting abnormally?'

'I'm not sure. A few weeks?'

'Has he seen his GP?'

'His GP? Why?'

'There are a number of conditions that can primarily manifest themselves particularly in the early stages, as mood or behaviour changes.'

'What sort of conditions? A brain tumour?'

'A brain tumour is one possibility but there are others: porphyria, for example, or Alzheimer's, though Danny is very young to be developing Alzheimer's. Then there are various mental disorders; was he showing signs of paranoia or hallucinations?'

'No, he just seemed a bit odd.'

'Probably best to get him to go to his GP anyway.'

'I'll call him in a couple of days.'

Louisa smiled at Martin and the reply he had been about to make vanished from his thoughts and he felt a sudden urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Unfortunately, Martin was aware that their argument with Danny had drawn the attention of the other women on the ward and kissing Louisa in front of an audience would lay him open to ridicule and abuse. So, instead he said,

'You look…well. How are you feeling?'

'Better, except for my arm, obviously.'

'Good. Have you been given a definite discharge date yet?'

'Tuesday, as long as none of my concussion symptoms return.'

'Good. We need to talk about childcare as it will be several weeks before you can provide Peter with adequate care. Aunty Joan is willing to look after Peter whenever we want her to but she needs to be at the farm.'

'That is so kind of Joan but it wouldn't be fair to ask her to have him all the time.'

'No. Do you want me to find out if there are any properly qualified childcare professionals in the village? There must be someone qualified among the village simpletons. They can't all be imbeciles.'

'Martin, I'm a properly qualified childcare professional. I just need someone to give me a hand for a few weeks. Just find me someone reasonably intelligent who likes babies.'

'If you're sure?'

'Yes, Martin, I'm sure.'

Louisa sounded annoyed and Martin wondered what he'd said this time. He was about to ask her if she was eating properly, when Aunty Joan arrived,

'Marty! I thought you weren't coming today.'

'I had to bring Mrs Oakwood in. Penhale broke her arm.'

'Joe Penhale!'

'No!'

Louisa and Aunty Joan both bombarded him with questions and between them they managed to get all of the details from him. When he'd finished talking, Aunty Joan and Louisa exchanged glances and Louisa said,

'There's something strange going on. You will be careful, won't you, Martin?'

'Yes.'

'Try not to be alone with anyone,' suggested Aunty Joan.

Martin was about to ask her how he was supposed to do his job in that case when she continued,

'Outside of work, I mean.'

'I'm certainly not going to agree to meet anyone in the graveyard at midnight. Really Aunty Joan, you might credit me with some common sense!'

'Common sense! You've never had an ounce of common sense, Marty! Why I used to have to…'

Whatever Aunty Joan was about to say was cut off by Martin's phone ringing. Grateful to be spared the embarrassment of one of Aunty Joan's childhood anecdotes, Martin handed Peter to Louisa and answered his mobile,

'Ellingham.'

'Sister Richards here. Doctor Wilson asked me to let you know that Mrs Oakwood is being admitted.'

'Reason?'

'Abnormal bone mineral density results.'

'Which ward?'

'Raven but she won't be there for about an hour; Doctor Wilson has ordered more x-rays.'

Martin checked his watch and winced; he was already late leaving, there was no possibility of him waiting to see Teri Oakwood.

'Tell Doctor Wilson I'll call him later.'

Martin hung up and said,

'I have to go.'

Inhibited by Aunty Joan's presence, Martin gave Louisa a chaste kiss on the cheek and hurried off.

Once he had left the ward, Martin rang Chris Parsons,

'Chris, there's a possible poisoning case you need to know about.'

Martin told Chris about Teri Oakwood's suspicious broken arm and his concerns about her health.

'I'll look into it.'

'Good. I need to see the autopsy results for the children that were killed when the school collapsed. Can you get your secretary to fax them over straight away.'

'Will do. Ted Johnson gave me a call about Anthony Oakwood, actually. He did the autopsy and apparently Oakwood was chock full of something.'

'Something?'

'They won't know exactly what for a few days but Ted thought it was a sedative of some kind.'


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Fourteen

As Martin drove back to Port Wenn he found himself thinking about Anthony Oakwood's murder. It was clear that his death had been carefully planned, unless the sedation had been self-administered. But why would Anthony Oakwood sedate himself? It was much more likely that the murderer had drugged him so that he wouldn't put up a fight. So it was someone he knew. Martin snorted exasperatedly; they already knew that Anthony Oakwood knew his killer. The villagers were so nosey that any stranger going to visit the Oakwood's would have been noticed and interrogated. Martin continued to think about it for a few minutes before concluding that the new information made no difference to his opinion regarding the murderer's identity. Of course the police seemed clueless but that could just be because the inspector didn't trust Joe Penhale not to tell the entire village all the details. Anyway it was not his job to catch Anthony Oakwood's killer; he had living people to keep healthy. Even if they brought most of their problems on themselves by ignoring his advice. Why people found it so hard to follow simple instructions he had no idea.  
For the rest of the journey, Martin put Anthony Oakwood out of his mind and prioritised the tasks waiting for him back at Port Wenn.

By the time Martin walked into the surgery he was forty-five minutes late and the waiting room was already crowded. Mindful of the extremely large number of jobs waiting for him, Martin decided to see if he could get rid of some of the time-wasters,

'Quiet! Anyone who can wait until tomorrow, leave now.'

Three people got up to leave, including Mrs Carter. Concerned, Martin said,

'Not you.'

'I only came to collect my prescription and show you this,' said Mrs Carter, handing Martin a printout.

Martin looked at the printout; it was a list of recommended meals for diabetes sufferers produced by the British Diabetes Society. He quickly scanned the contents and was surprised to find that it had been compiled by someone competent.

'Seems acceptable. Do you understand it?'

'Of course I do. I'm not a moron!'

Martin eyed Mrs Carter sceptically,

'Keep to these recipes and call me if you feel ill.'

Martin reached into his pocket, took out his prescription pad and quickly wrote a prescription out. Tearing it off he handed it to Mrs Carter, saying,

'You can go now.'

'Thank you,' said Mrs Carter sarcastically.

Martin ignored her and turned to Pauline,

'Any messages?'

'No, Doctor Ellingham, but a long fax came from Truro hospital. I put it on your desk.'

'Good. Send the first patient in. And I need you to compile a list of people who can help Miss Glasson with Peter when she comes out of hospital. I want someone intelligent and responsible so none of your layabout friends.'

'My friends are not layabouts!'

'Yes, they are.'

Martin ignored Pauline's outraged expression and went into his consulting room,

'Next!'

Martin got through his patients as quickly as possible but no matter how many times he shouted at them, they would insist on talking to him. Why they couldn't just come in, tell him their symptoms, listen to his diagnosis and leave, was beyond him. Probably another consequence of in-breeding. No doubt logical thought was impossible for them.  
As a result, it was already a quarter past five when Chelsey Baker and her father came in.

'Take a seat. How are you feeling today?'

'Okay.'

Chelsey's voice was unenthusiastic but Martin noticed that her colour was better and she seemed less jumpy.

'Have you eaten today?'

'Yes. I had scrambled egg for breakfast and a sandwich for lunch.'

'Good. Have you had any fruit or vegetables?'

'No, because we've run out of bananas.'

'Why not have an apple instead?'

'Apples have maggots in them.'

'Not usually. You need to have five portions of fruit and vegetables each day.'

'I know. Miss Glasson taught us about healthy eating at school.'

'Good. Try to eat more healthily.'

Chelsey sighed but reluctantly nodded.

'Right. Um, I thought you might find it helpful to read the autopsy reports on your friends.'

Martin took the medical sections of Jack's and Laura's autopsy reports from the pile on his desk and handed them to Chelsey. Chelsey took them gingerly and looked at the text with a frown,

'Ke…ruh…e…br…el…ha…e…mor…hage…'

'Ah,' said Martin, feeling stupid. He'd forgotten that Chelsey was only six; the highly technical language of the autopsy reports would be much too hard for her to read,

'Would you like me to explain it to you?'

''Yes,' replied Chelsey hesitantly.

'Well, what this report on Jack shows is that he suffered massive head injuries along with numerous broken bones. Laura's injuries were even worse; her spine was crushed by one of the roof beams and her liver and spleen were shredded.'

'Doctor, why are you telling us this?'

Mr Baker's voice was anxious and Martin looked at him in surprise; surely telling Chelsey some medical facts couldn't be a problem?

'I want Chelsey to understand that there was nothing that she could have done to save them. Even if she had been able to pull them out of the rubble, they would still have died. It wasn't her fault.'

'Are you sure?'

Chelsey's voice was a whisper but her eyes were full of dawning hope.

'Yes. The autopsy report is quite clear.'

Martin made his voice as definite as possible and saw some of the tension leave Chelsey's face.

He was about to ask how she was sleeping when his intercom buzzed. Annoyed, he pushed the correct button and barked,

'What!'

'Mrs Norton's here with Peter and she says she has to go.'

'Well you'll have to look after him until I've finished.'

'Sorry, Doctor. It's not in my job description.'

Pauline's voice was frosty and Martin wondered what was bothering her now. Frustrated, he flung open his surgery door and stormed into the waiting room,

'How am I supposed to provide proper care to my patients when you keep interrupting me?'

'It's not my job to babysit!'

'Well, find somebody to do it!'

'Well, I would but you said that you didn't want any of my friends taking care of Peter.'

'No, I didn't!'

'Yes, you did! You said that you didn't want any of my layabout friends helping Louisa with Peter!'

'Well, I just meant that I wanted someone reliable,' riposted Martin, weakly, aware that he'd been insensitive, again.

'Fine. I'll see what I can do but what are you going to do now?'

'Actually, Doc,' said Mr Baker, 'we should be getting off home now. If that's all right with you?'

Relieved, Martin agreed to see them again tomorrow at the same time and he and Pauline closed the surgery.

Martin had taken the repeat prescriptions home with him so he could catch up before the start of surgery tomorrow so after supper he put Peter on a blanket with some toys and started checking and signing the prescriptions. Unfortunately, Peter was in a fractious mood and after a few minutes Martin had to pick him up and give him attention. In the end he didn't get back to the prescriptions until Peter had had his final bottle and gone to sleep.

He finally finished the last prescription at eleven o'clock and was getting ready for bed when his mobile went,

'Ellingham.'

'Doc, I'm sorry to bother you but it's Dad. I don't know what to do; he won't come out of the kitchen.'

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	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Fifteen

'What do you mean, he won't come out of the kitchen?'

'He's saying he's going to stay the night at the restaurant to work on his Port Wenn pudding.'

'So?'

'He's been acting really strangely all evening.'

'Strangely, how?'

'Well, jumpy and unfriendly, like he was expecting someone but someone he didn't want to see.'

'Is he talking to himself?'

'Only the usual; reminding himself who ordered what and what the special is, that sort of stuff.'

'Has he threatened anyone?'

'No, of course not! Dad's never been a violent man,' Al sounded shocked.

'Is he threatening to hurt himself?'

'No.'

'Then there's nothing I can do.'

'But there must be!'

'Al, all Bert's intending to do is spend a few extra hours in his own restaurant, doing some work on a recipe. I don't understand why you're so worried and I'm certainly not going to interfere. What did you think I could do anyway?'

'I thought you could give him something to help him relax.'

Martin tried to control his rising exasperation,

'If Bert wants to come and see me, and if I think it's warranted, then I could prescribe something, but from what you've told me, it's very unlikely that Bert needs medication.'

'But how do I get him to come home?'

'You can't, not if he doesn't want to.'

'But what if he hurts himself?'

Martin's patience finally deserted him,

'Al, he's a grown man not a child! I'm going to bed and I suggest that you do too.'

Martin angrily disconnected and finished getting ready for bed but found himself lying awake wondering what could be making Bert behave so strangely. Having tried fruitlessly to put it out of his mind, Martin reluctantly decided to visit Bert first thing in the morning.

The next morning, Martin got up early intending to pay Bert a leisurely visit before morning surgery. However, Martin was preoccupied whilst feeding Peter and left the bowl within Peter's reach. Delighted, Peter put his hands in his baby rice and then smeared it all over his face and hair. Peter had only started having solids in the last few days so Martin was completely unprepared for how messy Peter had managed to get before he pulled the bowl away.  
By the time Martin had bathed and changed Peter, it was only fifteen minutes until Aunty Joan was due to arrive but Martin decided to go to the restaurant anyway. Al had sounded really worried and whilst Al would never win any academic prizes, he wasn't as dim as the rest of the villagers.

Looking at the weather, Martin decided to carry Peter rather than waste time putting the buggy up. It was a grey, chilly day and Martin tucked Peter inside his jacket to keep him warm. Walking through the village, he was surprised to find that he was getting positive reactions instead of the usual abuse. Even the teenage girls were less offensive than usual,

'Lost the buggy, Doc?'

'You'll be in trouble when Miss Glasson comes back.'

'Want us to take the baby for you?'

The latter seemed to be a genuine offer and Martin noticed a wistful look in the girls' eyes.

'Not today,' he replied mildly.

The girls' face fell and he was surprised to find himself saying,

'Miss Glasson will need some help when she comes out of hospital. If you think you're suitable, give your details to Pauline.'

He strode on, oblivious to the look of disbelief on the teenagers faces.

When he got to the restaurant, he found Bert in the kitchen staring proudly at a massive concoction in the middle of the table,

'Morning, Doc. Magnificent, isn't it?'

'What is it?'

'Port Wenn Pasty Surprise.'

Martin looked at the plate in the middle of the table; all that was visible was cream, strawberries and marshmallows.

'Why is it called Pasty Surprise?'

'Because there's a pasty in the middle.'

'A Cornish pasty?'

'That's right. Wonderful isn't it?'

Martin realised that Al was right; there was definitely something wrong with Bert. As Bert rambled on, Martin carried out a rapid visual assessment. Aside from looking very tired, Bert seemed normal; Martin would have to get him to the surgery to carry out a full range of tests.

'…so you see, you're getting two courses at the same time. And not just junk, those are real strawberries and of course there's veg in the pasty. And pilchards are good for you too. So, Doc, what d'you think?'

'I think you'd better come to the surgery and let me run some tests.'

'Why, Doc? I feel fine.'

'I expect you do, but I want to do the tests anyway.'

'But I need to get someone to taste my pudding.'

'Pauline's at the surgery. She can try it.'

'Good idea. I'll just lock up.'

A couple of minutes later, they started up the hill towards the surgery, Bert carefully carrying the plate of Pasty Surprise and a bag full of bowls and spoons.

It wasn't until they were almost there, that Martin realised that he still had Peter; he was supposed to be meeting Aunty Joan at the bungalow in five minutes. Martin hesitated, he couldn't leave Bert but Aunty Joan would be furious if he kept her waiting whilst he examined Bert. Casting around for a solution, he spotted the teenager who had offered to take Peter before. He would have preferred a reliable adult but the streets were deserted. He walked towards her,

'Do you know anything about babies?'

'My sister's got two. I look after them all the time.'

'Take Peter to Mrs Norton. She'll be waiting at Miss Glasson's bungalow. Tell her I'll see her at lunch. Can you do that?'

'Yes.'

The girl took Peter eagerly, cuddling him into her. Peter gurgled and smiled and her face lit up.

Martin took out his wallet and gave the girl ten pounds. She pocketed the money and set off down the hill, talking to Peter as she went,

'That's Darren. He's fit but my friend Tracy went out with him and she says he's…'

Martin turned back to Bert only to find that he'd carried on walking and was puffing his way up the surgery steps. Martin hurried after him but by the time he reached the waiting room it was too late; Bert had already given several people pieces of his revolting creation.

'I wouldn't eat that if I were you,' he warned.

'Why not? I like surprises,' replied one of his elderly patients.

'You won't like this one,' replied Martin bluntly.

'Well, I'm trying it,' said Pauline firmly and before Martin could stop her, she took a large bite.

Martin watched as the expression on Pauline's face changed from anticipation to disgust and she rushed into the kitchen to spit it out. As she started retching, the rest of Bert's food tasters put their spoons down and started prodding at the food on their plates worriedly. Martin hastily ushered Bert into his consulting room.

'Take a seat.'

Bert sat down and Martin checked his pulse and blood pressure. Both were slightly high but not enough to cause concern. His temperature was normal and there were no other signs of any infection.

'How are you sleeping?'

'Oh, you know, Doc, good some days, bad others.'

Martin looked at Bert sharply,

'When did you last sleep properly?'

'When was Anthony Oakwood murdered?'

'Tuesday.'

'Then it would have been Monday night.'

'I see. When you try to sleep, can you get to sleep?'

'Not easily, no. I keep tossing and turning and then when I do get to sleep, I have terrible nightmares.'

'Hmm. I think I'd better give you something to help you sleep, just for a night or two.'

'But will it help with the nightmares?'

'Yes, it should stop the nightmares too. I'm only going to give you three days supply. That should get you back into a normal sleep pattern. Make sure you get plenty of rest during the day as well.'

'Thank you, Doc.'

'Come back and see me in a week. Sooner if you need to.'

Martin carried on with his surgery, hampered by the fact that Pauline had been sick and kept asking to go home,

'Stop whining! It's your own fault. I told you not to eat it!'

'But I feel really awful.'

'Get yourself some dry toast and a cup of chamomile tea.'

It was about half an hour later when the door burst open during a consultation. To Martin's amazement, it was Aunty Joan and she was furious,

'Really Martin, you are the most inconsiderate person I've ever met! If you needed me to collect Peter from the surgery you could at least have rung to let me know. I've been waiting at the bungalow for over half an hour!'

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	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Sixteen

Martin stared at Aunty Joan blankly,

'What do you mean? I sent Peter to you.'

Aunty Joan paled,

'When?'

'Half an hour ago. You've been at the cottage all the time?'

'Yes, from twenty past eight until about five minutes ago.'

'Where can that stupid girl have got to?'

'What stupid girl, Martin?'

'I gave Peter to one of the teenage girls that are always hanging about the surgery, and told her to give him to you.'

'Which one?'

'The one with brown hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a black jacket of some sort.'

'Yes, but what was she called?'

'I don't know. I was in a hurry.'

By the time he'd finished, Joan was looking at Martin in incredulous fury,

'You gave your son to someone without finding out what her name is?'

'Why does it matter what her name is?' said Martin defensively.

'Because it's going to be hard to find her without it. Oh, Marty what are we going to do?'

Aunty Joan stumbled to a chair and sat down heavily, covering her face with her hands. Martin looked at her in consternation. He was about to make an angry response when the reality suddenly hit him; his son was missing and he had no idea how to find him. Shaking all over and feeling sick, he put his stethoscope down and sat heavily on the edge of his desk,

'I don't know. She only had to go down to the harbour and then up the hill on the other side. Even the dimmest of teenagers couldn't have got lost in that time.'

'She probably went to show off to her friends.'

Martin jumped; he had forgotten that there was anyone else in the room until Mrs Smith had spoken.

'Of course,' agreed Aunty Joan eagerly.

'For half an hour?' questioned Martin sceptically.

'No sense of time, most teenagers. She and her friends are probably playing with Peter and chatting.'

'Perhaps,' said Martin slowly.

He remembered that the girl had been on her own; her friends had gone somewhere else. But surely Mrs Smith was right, she was playing with Peter somewhere and they just had to find her. Martin got off the desk and strode towards the consulting room door, saying,

'Where would they be?'

Mrs Smith hesitated and Martin felt an almost overwhelming urge to shake her. Repressing all emotion, he waited impatiently. Eventually Mrs Smith shook her head,

'There's too many places. We'll have to search.'

'Just the three of us? It'll take hours!' said Martin, aghast.

'Don't worry, Doc, everyone will help.'

'Will they?' asked Martin, baffled by her certainty. He knew that most of the villagers considered him rude and arrogant so why would they be willing to help him?  
Mrs Smith went ahead of him into the waiting room and clapped her hands,

'One of the village girls was supposed to take Peter to Joan at Louisa Glasson's cottage and she hasn't turned up so we need to look for her.'

'How long ago was it?' asked Mr Rogers.

'Thirty-five minutes,' replied Joan.

'Who was it?' asked Pauline.

There was a pause and Martin realised that Aunty Joan wasn't going to answer for him; she'd always believed that people should face up to their own mistakes. Gritting his teeth, he said,

'I didn't ask her name. She was only doing a brief errand so I didn't think it mattered.'

There was a shocked silence and then Pauline said, angrily,

'You don't want my friends to look after Peter but you'll hand him over to a girl you don't even know! You are unbelievable!'

Martin flinched but made no attempt to defend himself; he should never have casually handed Peter over as if he was a parcel. He was a terrible father and when Louisa heard what had happened she wouldn't want anything to do with him, which would serve him right. He had been arrogant and careless and as a result, his son was missing.

Joan interrupted Pauline's rant,

'Tell him off later. We need to find Peter first.'

Pauline subsided and the patients in the waiting room organised themselves into two groups. The fittest ones would start searching the village and the less active would phone around the village and get more people searching.  
Martin opted to be with the searchers even though he knew it would make more sense for him to stay somewhere central and wait for news. He couldn't stay still. The thought of Peter hungry or scared or possibly even hurt made Martin feel cold all over and he rushed ahead of the other searchers, using his long legs to cover the ground as quickly as possible.

Outside Mrs Tishell's, Martin paused, trying to decide whether or not to go in. Since she had kissed him, Martin had avoided her whenever he could. However, she might have seen Peter so Martin forced himself to go in.

'Doctor Ellingham, how lovely to see you. What can I do for you?'

Mrs Tishell ended on a puzzled note; she knew exactly when all of Martin's surgeries were and she knew that he should be seeing patients now.

'Have you seen Peter?'

'Peter? Your son?'

'Yes, he would have been being carried by a teenage girl.'

'Let me think,' said Mrs Tishell, anxious to please Martin, 'I didn't see Peter but Becky Roberts went past about three quarters of an hour ago. I was setting up the till so I didn't see her clearly but she was definitely carrying something.'

'What does she look like?'

'Um, about average height…mid-brown hair…brown, no, blue eyes.'

'What was she wearing?'

'I'm ever so sorry, Doctor, I didn't notice.'

'Which way was she going?'

'Up the hill.'

Martin left the pharmacy, ignoring Mrs Tishell's offer of help, and started up the hill. He saw Pauline ahead of him and called out,

'Pauline!'

'Yes.'

'Mrs Tishell saw Becky Roberts come this way. She was carrying something and matches the description of the girl I gave Peter to. Does she live up here?'

'No, they're in Dolphin Cottage, down by the harbour.'

Pauline looked thoughtful and then said,

'I'll get some more people over this side.'

Pauline took out her mobile and arranged for more people to help scour the area between the pharmacy and the cottage but in fact, it was Pauline that called Martin five minutes later,

'Doc! Over here! Quickly!'

Martin followed the sound of her voice to a small side street. There, lying unconscious, was the teenage girl whom Martin had last seen holding Peter. There was no sign of Peter.

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	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Seventeen

'Don't move her!' said Martin, hurrying forward.

'I know!' exclaimed Pauline, furious that he had forgotten her first aid training yet again.

Martin ignored her and knelt beside the girl and examined her, being careful not to move or jolt her. There was a bruise forming on her forehead and there was a smear of blood on the wall above. Standing confirmed what Martin suspected, the blood was at the right height to be from her head hitting the wall. They wouldn't know for certain until the ambulance arrived, but Martin was expecting there to be a cut on the back of the girl's head. Martin stood and said to Pauline,

'Call an ambulance and then call the police. You might as well call off the searchers too.'

Pauline looked shocked but immediately dialled 999 and started talking to the emergency services.

Martin tuned Pauline out and looked at the teenager again. There were no signs of any other injuries but without doing a proper examination it was impossible to tell. Her breathing was fine and her pulse was strong, if a little fast. Much as he wanted to move her, Martin made himself wait; this was not a triage situation and she could very easily have spinal injuries.

'How long until the ambulance gets here?'

'Fifteen minutes and the police are on the way,' replied Pauline, 'Doctor Ellingham, why did you tell me to call off the searchers?'

'This girl was attacked. The police will take it from here.'

As he explained it to Pauline, Martin suddenly realised what it meant; his son had been kidnapped and the kidnapper had hurt someone to get hold of him. His stomach heaved and he reeled away from Pauline and vomited into the gutter.

Pauline watched him sympathetically. If it had been anyone else she would have offered them a cup of tea and told them that everything was going to be all right, but she knew that Martin would resent being cosseted and could probably quote the survival statistics for infant kidnap victims, so platitudes would not help. Suddenly she remembered that she had an unopened bottle of mineral water in her bag. Taking it out, she handed it to Martin,

'Here, have some of this.'

Martin took the bottle gratefully, surprised to find that his hands were shaking, rinsed his mouth and then drank. A few seconds later he handed the bottle back, saying,

'Waste of money. Tap water's better for you.'

Pauline just nodded and returned the bottle to her bag.

It was only five minutes before the police arrived but to Martin it seemed a lot longer. He barely noticed that Joe was not alone,

'What took you so long?' he demanded angrily.

'We were as quick as we could be,' replied DI Haines.

Martin was about to launch into a tirade when Pauline interrupted,

'Becky Roberts has been knocked out and Doctor Ellingham's son, Peter, has been kidnapped.'

'When did this happen?'

'About three quarters of an hour to an hour ago,' replied Martin, 'Becky left me at eight-fifteen and Mrs Tishell saw her go past the pharmacy about ten minutes later. Mrs Norton was waiting for Peter at Miss Glasson's cottage but they never arrived so it must have happened whilst she was walking up the hill.'

'How old is your son?'

'Fifteen weeks and two days.'

Martin's accurate reply seemed to surprise DI Haines and Martin wondered why, not realising that most people would need to work it out.

'What was he wearing when you saw him last?'

'A nappy, obviously, a white body suit, a blue and white all-in-one with cars, planes and trains on it, a blue jumper and white booties.'

'What colour are his eyes and hair.'

'He has blue eyes and blond hair.'

Martin blinked back tears as he had a sudden flash of memory; he had just brought Peter and Louisa back from the hospital after the birth and Louisa had looked from Peter to him and said,

'I've got two blue-eyed blonds; everyone will be jealous.'

He had been puzzled by her remark. Hair and eye colour were merely a function of genetics, trivial compared to everything else. He had made some remark about only dullards caring about such things and she'd been annoyed with him.  
Now, he'd give anything to be back in that room with her.

DI Haines' voice dragged him back to the present,

'Any distinguishing features?'

'He has an irregularly shaped birthmark on his left buttock; about two centimetres by three centimetres but narrower in the middle. Also, his ears stick out a bit. Not as much as mine but still noticeable.'

DI Haines nodded and said,

'We'll take it from here. Try not to worry.'

Martin was about to lambast him for making such an inane suggestion but his next question reduced him to speechless horror,

'Does the boy's mother know what's happened?'

White as a sheet, Martin shook his head. How was he going to tell Louisa that Peter was missing?

'Where does she live?'

'In White Rose Cottage but she was injured when the school classroom collapsed; she's in Truro General Hospital at the moment.'

'How badly injured is she?'

'She's still got concussion though her symptoms have improved, and she has a broken arm.'

'I see. Is she well enough to be told?'

For one brief moment Martin considered lying so that Louisa wouldn't find out what a terrible father he was, but his rigid ethical framework made that impossible,

'Yes. I'll drive to Truro and tell her.'

'I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Sir. I need you to stay here in case the kidnapper contacts you. Truro CID will send a WPC to tell her and to stay with her until we find Peter.'

Martin looked blankly at the inspector, trying to process what he was saying. For some reason his brain didn't seem to be working very well and he felt cold and shivery. The trained, analytical part of his brain realised that he was going into shock but couldn't help him shake it off.  
In a daze, Martin let himself be led away, back to his surgery, to wait for a phone call. Aunty Joan came and sat with him and other people came and went. Police specialists came and installed recording devices on his phones and someone talked to him about what to say if the kidnapper called. More people came and went and slowly, the day passed.

Oblivious to them all, Martin just sat and hurt.

Rose lay in bed and stared at her bedroom ceiling. Why were adults so stupid? Why didn't they listen? She'd tried to talk to her parents about the kidnapping but they'd just told her to be quiet and not to worry, the police would find Peter. But the police were looking in the wrong place. She was certain she knew who had kidnapped Peter and where he was but no one would listen to her. Rose heaved an exasperated sigh and made up her mind. She would probably be grounded for weeks but she had to do it; Doc Martin had saved her cousin's life. Doc Martin had given Tom CPR when he'd been pulled, lifeless, from the rubble that had once been their classroom and if he hadn't, Tom would be dead.

Rose slipped out of bed and got dressed. She opened her door and listened carefully. The telly was on in the lounge and everywhere else was quiet. She walked quietly down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door.

As she hurried along the path, Rose shivered, it was cold and she hadn't stopped to get her coat. She soon came to the house that she was looking for and she stood for a minute looking at it. The only light that was on was upstairs but Rose knew how to get up to it; she and Ellen had climbed along the garden wall dozens of times. Confidently, Rose climbed onto the garden wall and walked along it until it met the house wall. From there she was able to clamber on to the sloping roof that lay below the lit window. A few seconds later, she was peering cautiously in. Almost at once she realised that she was right. There was a baby here, where there shouldn't be and whilst she couldn't see the baby clearly, it did have blond hair and was the same size as Peter.  
Elated, Rose turned and made her way down the roof. As she clambered across on to the garden wall, her foot slipped and she started to fall. She managed to save herself but grazed both hands and knocked her chin on the wall. Feeling shaky, she made herself do the rest of the climb down more slowly and reached the ground without any more trouble.

Eagerly, she set off towards Doc Martin's surgery but she had only gone a few steps when she felt a hand on her arm and someone said,

'What are you doing out at this time of night, young lady?'

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	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Eighteen

Rose had a moment of sheer unadulterated terror before she recognised who had stopped her; holding her arm was PC Penhale. She sighed in relief, for a moment she had thought she was in danger but Joe Penhale was safe. Her gran said he was daft as a brush and most people treated him with genial contempt, but Rose had been impressed by Mr Large's treatment of Penhale. Bert Large was always very respectful towards him and as a result was able to get away with assorted dodgy activities with Joe Penhale always believing that he had the right licences. Putting on her most innocent expression, Rose said,

'Hello, officer.'

Joe's expression softened as he heard Rose's respectful tone. So many children nowadays were rude and badly behaved, it was great to meet a well-behaved one. Letting go of Rose's arm, he asked,

'Are you supposed to be out?'

'I needed to do something.'

'Well, you shouldn't be out on your own. What were you doing, anyway?'

Rose hesitated, not sure what to do. In theory, he was the perfect person to tell about Peter but he was leaning over her, glaring, and suddenly Rose didn't feel safe any more. Smiling sadly, she said,

'I felt too upset to sleep so I came out for a walk.'

'You might get hurt,' said Penhale ominously.

Rose shivered as a primitive part of her brain told her to leave, now. Forcing a smile, she said,

'I'll go straight home.'

'See that you do. We wouldn't want another kidnapping.'

Rose ran back towards her house, convinced that he was following her but when she paused at her back gate, he was nowhere to be seen. Rose hid behind a tree and waited but Penhale didn't come; she'd obviously been mistaken. Rose thought for a moment, she could go and tell her parents what she had seen but would they believe her? They hadn't before. Rose twirled her hair around her finger as she tried to decide what to do. The ends of her hair brushed against her grazed palm and the pain made helped her to decide. Her parents would probably decide that they needed to see for themselves and she didn't think that was a good idea so she needed to go to Doc Martin herself.

Having made her mind up, Rose set off, using the little alley than ran behind her house to get well past where she had met Penhale, before venturing on to wider thoroughfares. It was cold and dark and the streets were completely empty.

Rose hurried past the Police Station unaware that she was being watched until she heard a door close and footsteps coming towards her. Glancing behind her, she saw Joe Penhale walking quickly towards her. Terrified, she started to run.

Rose ran as fast as she could, horribly aware that she was small for her age and no match for a grown man. Ahead of her were the surgery steps and seeing them, Rose somehow found some extra energy to go a little faster. As she reached the surgery door, Penhale's hand clamped down hard on her shoulder and she screamed as loudly as she could,

'HELP! DOC MARTIN! HELP!'

Inside the surgery, Martin barely noticed Rose's screams; his entire concentration was on the phone, willing it to ring. However, the two police officers, left to provide support and encouragement to the victim's father, reacted automatically. They were outside within seconds and one of them pulled Rose from Penhale's grasp whilst the other grappled with Penhale, bringing him to the ground. The first officer went to help his colleague, allowing Rose to slip into the surgery.

Ignoring everyone else, she went straight to Martin and said,

'I know where Peter is.'

Martin looked vaguely at her and she realised that he hadn't heard her so she got as close to him as she could and shouted,

'DOC MARTIN!'

'What?'

'I know where Peter is.'

Martin blinked at Rose in amazement. The last clear memory he had was of looking down at Becky's unconscious body and yet he was in his surgery, it was night and Rose was saying that she knew where his son was. Without realising what he was doing, he pulled Rose into a hug,

'Where, Rose?'

'Ellen's Mummy's got him.'

'Ellen?'

'Ellen Harris,' said Rose, sadly.

Martin was about to ask how she knew, when the police officers came in, escorting an indignant Joe Penhale,

'There's the miscreant! Arrest her!'

Joe tried to pull Rose away from Martin but Martin tightened his hold on her, saying firmly,

'Shut up, Penhale.'

'But she ran away from me!'

'Last time I checked that wasn't a criminal offence.'

'Not as such, no, but it is suspicious behaviour.'

'You're an imbecile. Shut up and listen. Rose knows where Peter is.'

The three police officers stared at Rose and she glared at them, daring them to doubt her.

Oblivious to the staring match going on, Martin asked,

'Why do you think Mrs Harris has Peter?'

'I climbed on to the roof and looked through the window and there's a cot where Ellen's bed used to be and there's a baby asleep in it.'

'Whatever made you do that?' asked Penhale sceptically.

'Yesterday, I wanted to be away from everybody so I climbed into Ellen's garden and hid in the tree. It hasn't lost all of its leaves yet so nobody could see me. I saw Mrs Harris getting all her baby things out and cleaning them…and she was singing and smiling.'

Martin nodded and the senior of the officers said,

'I take it that there's no reason for Mrs Harris to be getting out her baby stuff.'

'No. Her daughter died when the classroom was destroyed and her husband was killed in a car crash just over two years ago.'

The police officer flinched,

'Poor woman. So she's taken Peter as a replacement?'

'Yes, and she probably genuinely believes that Peter is hers. These sorts of psychoses are not my area of expertise, but sufferers often exist in a fantasy world. In Mrs Harris' case she has retreated from the pain caused by her daughter's death and is creating a new world for herself based around Peter.'

'So we need to mount a dawn raid. Bash the door down and get the perp on the floor and in handcuffs before she knows what's hit her,' said Penhale happily.

There was a moment of shocked silence then Martin said,

'Have you been visiting a herbalist again? You know you mustn't take anything I haven't prescribed. How much caffeine have you been having?'

Whilst Martin interrogated Joe about changes to his diet the other police officers talked to Rose about the layout of the Harris' house and then called for back up. By the time Martin had finished by ordering Penhale to make an appointment, they had spoken to DI Haines and made a tentative plan,

'Doctor Ellingham, we'd like you to go in first.'

'Me? Why?'

'To try to get the baby out. If you think Mrs Harris will accept you as the baby's doctor?'

'She might. What did you have in mind?'

The officer explained the plan and Martin reluctantly agreed to try it. In theory the plan was a good one but it relied on his ability to lie and Martin was aware that he was a terrible liar.

Half an hour later, they were ready to go. A very reluctant Rose had been taken home and there were four police officers in position around Mrs Harris' house.  
Martin left the surgery and walked rapidly to Mrs Harris' house, making no attempt to avoid being seen. Once there, he rang the bell and waited. There was no reply so Martin knocked on the door and called out,

'Mrs Harris? It's Doctor Ellingham. Can you come to the door, please?'

Martin was about to ring the bell again when he heard footsteps coming towards the door and the sound of bolts being pulled back. The door opened and Mrs Harris said,

'Hello, Doctor Ellingham. What are you doing here?'

As she spoke, Martin studied her face. It was calm and showed nothing except puzzlement. If Peter was here, Mrs Harris was completely delusional.

'I need to see the baby.'

'Ellen? Why?'

Martin looked down at the floor, trying to control his expression. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he explained,

'There's been a case of meningitis in the village. I want to make sure no one else has it.'

'Meningitis!' exclaimed Mrs Harris, holding open the door for Martin, 'She's upstairs, second door on your left.'

Martin brushed past her and hurried up the stairs and through the bedroom door. There was a cot against the far wall and inside the cot, asleep, was a baby. Shaking, Martin pulled the blanket off, reached in and picked up his son.

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	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Nineteen

Being lifted out of the cot woke Peter and he started to cry. As he heard his son's wails, Martin sagged with relief; she hadn't drugged Peter into insensibility. Martin cuddled Peter and said,

'It's all right. I just need to examine you.'

He looked round the room and saw a changing mat on top of a chest of drawers. He carried Peter over to the mat and examined him carefully. There were no bruises or marks and he was clean and warm. Martin blinked back tears and pulled Peter into his arms, automatically resting Peter's head on his shoulder.

'Is she all right?'

As Mrs Harris spoke, Martin found himself wanting to scream at her in rage but he reminded himself that she was his patient and seriously ill. It was his responsibility to initiate the appropriate treatment regime.

'We need to go to the hospital.'

Mrs Harris paled,

'Has she got meningitis?'

'I don't think so but I want the hospital to check that everything's as it should be.'

Martin felt no guilt about lying. As Mrs Harris' doctor, it was his job to do what needed to be done whilst causing Mrs Harris as little distress as possible.

'Can't it wait till morning?'

'No.'

Martin knew that he should think of a plausible reason for going to the hospital now but all he could think about was getting Peter safely out of the house. Luckily, Mrs Harris didn't question his decision, which was, no doubt, another indication of mental illness. The villagers were all ridiculously argumentative, despite it being obvious that he was by far the most intelligent person in Port Wenn. They all seemed to think that their opinion was as valid as his. Completely ridiculous.

'I'll go and get her nappy bag.'

'Good. I'll put the baby in the car.'

'Do you have a car seat?'

'Yes.'

'Of course. You've got one for Peter. How is he?'

'Fine.'

Martin flinched; Mrs Harris had completely retreated from reality.  
As he went downstairs and let himself out of the front door, Martin felt overwhelmed with sadness. Mrs Harris had been a good mother but now she was destined to spend a long time in an institution, all because Anthony Oakwood was an egotistical idiot, who tested his theories on his own son. Martin loathed violence and had never had any sympathy for people who claimed to be driven to kill, but he now understood why somebody had felt that they had to kill Anthony Oakwood. So many lives had been destroyed by his actions.

When he got outside, he found DI Haines waiting for him,

'Is the baby all right?'

'As far as I can tell from a superficial examination.'

'Good. We'll go in and arrest Mrs Harris.'

'No. She needs medical treatment. I'm taking her to the hospital.'

'That's not a good idea. She's already attacked one person today. She needs to be locked up.'

'She will be; in a psychiatric unit.'

'I need to question her about Oakwood's murder.'

'You'll have to talk to her at the hospital.'

'Can't her treatment wait?'

'No and if she doesn't get treatment as soon as possible, nothing she says will be admissible in Court.'

DI Haines nodded reluctantly. He knew that Martin was right but he really wanted to interrogate Mrs Harris. He had a lot of suspects but the bereaved parents were at the top of his list.

'There you are, doctor,' said Mrs Harris, locking her front door and walking towards them. She was carrying a large shoulder bag and seemed worried.

'How long will it take to run the tests on Ellen?'

'Not long.'

Mrs Harris followed Martin docilely to his car and got in without hesitation. Martin strapped Peter in and watched in surprise as DI Haines got in alongside Peter.

Martin was about to drive off when he remembered that Aunty Joan had waited behind at the surgery. Moving away from his car, he took out his phone and dialled,

'Joan Norton.'

'It's Marty. Rose was right.'

'Have you got Peter? Is he all right?'

'Yes.'

Martin rang off, leaving Joan staring at the phone in frustration,

'Really Martin!'

The journey to the hospital was uneventful. Martin and DI Haines were both thinking about their jobs and Mrs Harris spent the trip holding Peter's hand and gazing into space.  
Once they had parked, Martin left Mrs Harris with DI Haines in the Casualty waiting room and called the head of the Psychiatric Team. It took him about twenty minutes to get connected to the consultant in charge but eventually the registrar who was on duty got fed up of being accused of being as intelligent as a performing seal and gave Martin the number he needed.  
Martin explained the situation to the consultant and, happy that the right steps would be taken, left Mrs Harris waiting quietly to be told how her daughter was.

The walk up to the women's ward seemed to take forever. Martin wanted to run but knew that it would be a rash thing to do whilst carrying Peter in his arms. Peter had slept in the car but had woken again when he'd been taken out of his car seat. He'd been cranky at first but the patches of light and dark and the different colours along the hospital corridors, soothed him and he was gurgling happily as they got to Louisa's bed.

There was a WPC beside Louisa's bed and she got up quietly as Martin came in, saying,

'DI Haines said you were coming here so I didn't wake her to tell her.'

Martin nodded and the WPC left.

Martin gazed down at Louisa. There were dark shadows under her eyes and for a moment he considered leaving her to sleep. However, Peter saw his mother and let out a loud stream of random noises. Louisa bolted upright, and looked wildly around her until she saw Martin and Peter beside her bed,

'Peter! Oh, Martin, you found him!'

Louisa held out her good arm and Martin passed Peter to her and sat on the edge of the bed. Beaming, Louisa cuddled Peter to her and kissed his forehead tenderly. She stayed like that for a couple of minutes before looking at Martin quizzically and saying,

'Martin, why is Peter wearing a dress?'

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	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Twenty

It was only five o'clock in the morning but the man walking through the hospital corridors hadn't woken early because of insomnia or uncertainty. He never slept for more than four hours a night and he knew exactly what he was going to do.

He didn't hurry as he made his way to the women's ward; what he was going to do wasn't going to be easy and he wanted to make sure that he'd thought his plan out so no one stopped him from doing what had to be done.

When he reached the ward, he easily found the side ward where Louisa Glasson was recovering from her injuries. Looking in, he was pleased to see that his information was correct; Martin Ellingham had stayed the night.

As he looked at the people in the room he felt his emotions coming to the surface; Martin and Louisa were lying spooned together on her bed, his arm protectively over her, plaster cast and all, and they were both turned towards the crib where the baby lay. The man ruthlessly repressed the emotions he was feeling, breathing slowly and deeply until he was calm and centred again.

The baby began to stir and the man moved quietly towards the crib, intending to stop the baby from making any noise.

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	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Twenty-one

As the man reached the crib, Peter began to cry. Clumsily, the man picked him up and tried to soothe him but it was too late. Within seconds Louisa opened her eyes.

Seeing a strange man holding her son, she reacted without hesitation, scrambling off the bed and confronting him,

'Who are you and what are you doing with my son?'

'I'm a doctor.'

'Where's your id badge?'

'I don't have one yet,' he replied weakly, feeling stupid, 'It's being issued today.'

Louisa had him cornered now and her eyes blazed with rage. The man found himself amazed by her beauty even as he cringed with embarrassment. He found himself stammering and was grateful when Martin's furious voice cut across his muttered explanations,

'Milligan, what the bloody hell are you doing?'

Relieved, Paul Milligan turned to Martin, saying,

'I arrived yesterday and Chris Parsons told me what had happened so I came to see if I can do anything to help.'

'By waking Peter and terrifying Louisa? You need to remind yourself what 'help' means.'

Blushing, Paul Milligan explained,

'I didn't wake the baby, I was trying to stop him from waking you.'

'Well, maybe next time you'll remember that mothers of kidnap victims react badly when they see complete strangers holding their babies.'

Doctor Milligan flinched inwardly but realised that Martin was right, Louisa's reaction had been completely predictable. In fact, he was lucky that she hadn't attacked him. He turned to Louisa and said,

'I'm sorry. That was thoughtless of me.'

Louisa subsided slightly but didn't relax until Paul had handed Peter to Martin.

'Why did you come here so early?' she asked, curiously.

'I thought you and Martin might like to talk about what happened. I'm a psychiatrist and Martin asked me to help out with trauma counselling for the villagers.'

'You thought we might like to talk about it?' said Martin, incredulously.

'It is usually a good idea to discuss traumatic events. How did you feel when you found out that Peter had been kidnapped?'

Martin glared at him, outraged. He'd asked Milligan to come down to help the victims of Sam Oakwood's latest and, unfortunately, last, escapade, not to try to get him to talk about his feelings,

'How do you think I felt, you congenital idiot! Now get out of the way, Peter needs changing.'

With that, Martin barged past Doctor Milligan, picked up the nappy bag and marched off.

Sighing, Paul turned to Louisa,

'Is there anything you'd like to talk about?'

Louisa looked at him thoughtfully. He didn't seem upset or surprised by Martin's outburst. Disappointed, perhaps.

'You weren't surprised by Martin's reaction, were you?'

'No. Not after frightening you like that. He's very protective towards you so he was furious, naturally enough. I really didn't mean to do that.'

Louisa relaxed as the last of her anger slipped away,

'So what did you intend to do?'

'Talk to Martin in a relaxed setting, hopefully get him to open up.'

'Has he opened up to you before?'

Paul Milligan heard the jealousy in Louisa's voice and was glad to be able to answer honestly,

'No. Martin seems to find it hard to vocalise his emotions.'

'So you got short sentences too?'

'Monosyllables, mostly.'

Louisa smiled and Paul Milligan found himself struggling to think clearly. Why hadn't she been married for years? Were the locals all blind or gay? Clearing his throat, he said,

'How are you feeling?'

'Not great. I'd taught all the children who died, even Sam. I keep thinking that if I'd reacted faster, perhaps none of them would have died. Well, except Sam.'

Louisa's voice was full of pain and Paul knew that it would take a long time for her to come to terms with what had happened.

'I'd like you to come to me for some counselling sessions. I think I can help.'

Louisa didn't hesitate. She desperately needed someone to help her cope with what had happened and the woman whom her doctor had sent to see her had been bored and dismissive.

'Yes. When are you starting?'

'Tomorrow, once I've got patient details from Martin.'

'I should be back home on Tuesday.'

'I'll contact you tomorrow to let you know when I can see you.'

Louisa was about to give him her doctor's details, when they heard a voice say, 'Wow,' followed by a furtive giggle from the adjacent side ward. Puzzled, Louisa looked up just as Martin came in carrying Peter.

He looked harassed and said,  
'The people in Truro are even worse than the in-bred cretins in Port Wenn. They kept pointing and giggling. Anyone would think that they'd never seen a man carrying a baby before.'

Paul Milligan looked at Martin in disbelief; he had to know what he'd done, surely?

Louisa sighed, it was bound to get back to Port Wenn,

'Martin, you're only wearing a pair of pants and a vest.'

Martin looked blankly at her. What he was wearing was perfectly decent. He'd selected the pants to provide the right level of support whilst keeping his testes at the optimum temperature and the vest was designed to keep his body warm but not hot,

'So?'

Louisa blushed,

'Martin, the pants…um…well…they're rather revealing.'

Martin lifted Peter away from his body and looked down.

Three seconds later, Paul Milligan found himself holding Peter while Martin frantically grabbed his trousers from the back of the chair.

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	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Twenty-two

By the time Martin had dressed, Peter had started crying again and Paul Milligan was glad to hand him back to Martin.

Paul Milligan watched quietly as Louisa fed Peter, with Martin helping when needed. Their relationship was fascinating, superficially unlikely yet underpinned by a deep love that only expressed itself in glances and intonation. He wondered if either of them realised how the other really felt.

Once Peter was fed and happy, Martin kissed Louisa on the cheek and said,

'Come on, Milligan, I'll introduce you to some of your patients.'

Martin led Paul away without another word.

On their way to the children's ward, Martin briefed him about the children he was about to meet,  
'Nathan Bell suffered a concussion when the ceiling came down, no complications, due to go home next week as long as his x-rays are satisfactory. Parents aren't very bright but do as they're told as long as you're firm. Molly Mackenzie had a depressed skull fracture, I operated in situ, tests suggest no long term consequences but she'll need a lot of care in the short term. Mackenzie is an argumentative idiot but cooperative as far as Molly's care is concerned. You'll need to make sure that any explanations you give are extremely basic otherwise you'll spend hours arguing with them. All the villagers think that the surgery is the ideal place to come to spout meaningless gibberish, I'm afraid. The result of in-breeding, no doubt.'

Paul Milligan looked at Martin in amazement. His assessment of the villagers was incredibly insensitive. Yes, to a man of Martin's intelligence, someone of average intelligence must seem rather dim, but if he allowed even a tenth of his contempt to show, he must seem unbelievably arrogant.

When they reached the children's ward, Martin introduced him briefly to Nathan, who was more interested in his breakfast than them, before taking him into the side ward where Molly Mackenzie was eating some cereal. As they came in, Molly paused with her spoon in mid air and said,

'Hello.'

'Hello. How are you feeling today?'

'Okay but I want to go home. Dad asked Mr Finch when I could go home but he said he didn't know. Do you know?'

'Are you still seeing zigzags?'

'Yes,' replied Molly gloomily.

'Hmm.'

Martin picked up Molly's notes and read through her latest test results carefully. The CT scan was encouraging; there was a very small amount of damage to the parietal lobe and to the occipital lobe. Testing by a physiotherapist confirmed that Molly's motor functions were fine. There was a suggestion that her reading had been affected but the psychologist had noted that Molly had had a headache and been seeing zigzags during the test so the results were inconclusive. Similarly, the psychologist had been unsure whether or not Molly was suffering from right-left disorientation or not, since six year-olds often had trouble telling left from right, particularly in test conditions. Martin made a mental note to congratulate Chris Parsons on having at least one competent consultant on his staff.

Martin looked at Molly thoughtfully,

'You should be able to go home soon but you'll have to spend your days resting.'

Molly sighed and said,

'It's not fair. Why did Sam drive into the school?'

'I don't know,' said Martin, helplessly.

He was about to beat a hasty retreat, when he remembered that he had Milligan with him,

'Molly, this is Doctor Milligan, he's going to give you some counselling to help you deal with what happened.'

Molly looked at Paul sceptically,

'Is he really a proper doctor?'

'Yes, I am. I can show you my certificates, if you like.'

Molly was about to reply, when her father came in.

'Morning, everything all right?'

'This is Doctor Milligan, he'll be counselling Molly.'

'Pleased to meet you,' said Stu, shaking hands with Paul, 'I heard you gave Mrs Saunders the heave-ho. She's after your blood but Ian and I have both made written complaints so she hasn't got a leg to stand on.'

'Ian?'

'Ian Baker, Chelsey's dad.'

'Good.'

'Why did you complain?' asked Paul.

'She told Molly not to make a mountain out of a mole hill and that she'd soon forget her dead friends.'

'Incompetent moron. I hope Molly knows that she was talking unmitigated rubbish,' said Martin, furious.

'Martin's right,' said Paul, outraged, 'Does this woman even have any qualifications?'

'No idea, I told her to get out and stay out.'

'Good.'

Paul made arrangements to see Molly twice a week, and they left.

Martin walked in silence until Paul asked who they were seeing next,

'Teri Oakwood. It was her son that crashed into the school. He died at the scene. Her husband's been murdered and she was admitted after the imbecilic village policeman broke her arm. When it turned out that he was actually telling the truth about how it happened, I had her bone density checked. It's seriously abnormal so I ordered some other tests.'

'How is she coping?'

'Better than I would have expected. Probably because she believes in some woolly New Age astral plane reincarnation rubbish.'

'A lot of people use religion to help them cope when a loved one dies.'

Martin grunted but didn't reply, unable to articulate why it was that Teri Oakwood's belief system annoyed him so much.

When they reached Teri's bedside, they found Chris Parsons already there. He was talking to Teri Oakwood, asking her about trips abroad.

'Anthony was worried about our carbon footprint so we never went abroad. We used to go camping in Wales when Sam was little. He loved the sheep.'

Martin interrupted Teri without compunction,

'Mrs Oakwood, this is Doctor Milligan. He's going to give you some counselling sessions.'

Paul Milligan started talking to Teri and Martin picked up Teri's notes and started reading. He was annoyed when Chris Parsons interrupted him,

'Martin, do you have a minute?'

'What?'

'I'd like you to have a look at these DXA results.'

Chris reached into the holder at the end of Teri's bed and took out the envelope of x-rays, labelled 'bone densitometry'. Curious, Martin followed him into an office and waited as Chris put up eight films on the light box. Silently, Martin examined the x-rays.

'Are you sure these are all hers?'

'Yes. You see the problem?'

Martin nodded. Teri Oakwood's x-rays showed a huge variation in bone density through her body. As he gazed at the films a vagrant memory stirred from years ago, something he'd seen or something he'd read.

'Chris, I've seen this somewhere.'

'Where, Martin? None of the consultants recognised it.'

'It was years ago. When I was studying to be a surgeon in London…'

Martin concentrated and the memories came rushing back; the endless things to learn, the stress of being under scrutiny the whole time and the fear of failure. And the camaraderie between the housemen. All of them determined to succeed. They'd shared a common room with clinical trials staff. That was it.

'There was a clinical trail for a new drug. It had already been approved in several countries, including Brazil, where it had been in use for several years. It was on track for approval when the results of long term usage came in. It caused this sort of bone density abnormalities.'

'A new derivative?'

'Perhaps, but she's not taking part in any trials.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes. Are the results of her tox screen back yet?'

'No.'

'You need to get her hair and nails analysed.'

'You mean?'

'Someone's been poisoning Teri Oakwood.'

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	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Twenty-three

Chris Parsons gazed at Martin in shock,

'Are you sure?'

'No, but I can't think of anything else, can you?'

'Unless she was wrongly prescribed it? No, the pharmacist wouldn't be able to get hold of it. Could she be taking part in a drug trial without telling you?'

'Highly unlikely but I suppose we'd better rule it out.'

Martin walked back to Teri Oakwood's bed and said,

'Mrs Oakwood, are you taking any medicines prescribed by anyone but myself?'

'No. Anthony and I are strong believers in the healing power of meditation. It's quite amazing…'

'Are you certain? Nothing that your previous doctor prescribed?'

'No. I've always been very healthy.'

Martin winced inwardly, but kept his professional mask firmly in place. Teri Oakwood's skeletal structure was severely compromised. In medical terms she was very unhealthy indeed.

'The nurse is going to take a sample of your hair and nails to be sent off for analysis.'

'Why?'

'To find out what's been causing the problems with your bone density.'

'I probably haven't been having enough calcium. I'll just eat more yoghurts.'

'Mrs Oakwood! We need to analyse your hair and nails to find out the best way to treat you. Do you understand?'

'Yes, Doctor.'

Martin left the nurse to take the samples and retreated to the office with Chris Parsons.

'Martin, can you remember exactly when the trial was?'

Martin racked his brains but for once, his memory failed him,

'No. It would have been about twenty years ago. Imperial will have the records, though, and it would have been in some of the journals.'

'I'll get on to Imperial.'

'You'd better call the police too. Chap called Haines is in charge of the investigation into Oakwood's murder. Seems almost competent.'

'Wouldn't it be better if you did it?'

'I haven't got time. I'm bound to have patients queuing out of the door when I get back.'

'But you've only been gone a few hours.'

'Given the disgusting lack of hygiene and cretinous inhabitants, I wouldn't be surprised to find yet another epidemic sweeping the village. And they'll all come to me expecting an instant remedy.'

^And you love it.^ thought Chris, suppressing his amusement. It was clear to him that Martin loved the challenge. He might be outraged by the villagers' ignorance, but he was where he wanted to be. And since the tragedy at the school, he hadn't had a single complaint about Martin. It wouldn't last, of course; Martin was so rude that even seasoned nurses were shocked, so the complaints were bound to start up again.

Chris reluctantly agreed to contact the police and Martin left, peremptorily ordering Milligan to come with him.

'Where next?'

'Back to Port Wenn. I'll get Pauline to make you a list of the people needing counselling and you can get started. I was going to suggest that you use one of the rooms above my surgery for your consultations. I'll give you a set of keys.'

'You mean today?'

'Yes, why not?'

'It's Sunday.'

Martin stared at Milligan blankly for a minute, then took out his mobile phone,

'Pauline, I'm going to run a surgery today. Genuine emergencies only.'

'Yes, I know it's Sunday. Be there in an hour.'

He slammed the phone closed and put it in his pocket.

'How will people know the surgery's open?'

'As soon as one of them sees the door open, they'll tell all their cronies and within minutes half the village idiots will have popped in for a cup of tea and a chat.'

'You make tea for them?'

'No, but it doesn't stop them. Most of the villagers' only stop talking if they're seriously ill. I find it a useful diagnostic tool.'

Paul looked at Martin's face, waiting for the smile or laugh, but then realised that Martin wasn't joking. Fascinated, Paul wondered if there was any way to get Martin to open up to him. Such an intelligent man yet so alienated from the world around him. What had happened to damage him so much?

Martin was silent during the drive to Port Wenn and Paul made no attempt to draw him out. Whilst Martin was fascinating, that wasn't the reason that he was here. He was here to help a community deal with a terrible tragedy and he needed to think about the best ways to help. As they drove into the village, Paul asked,

'Is there a Village Hall?'

'Yes.'

'Who do I see about hiring it?'

'Ask Pauline.'

When they reached the surgery, Martin was annoyed to find it locked and no sign of Pauline. He was just reaching for his phone when it rang,

'Ellingham.'

'Doctor Ellingham, you need to come to the restaurant.'

'Why?'

'It's Bert.'

'Again? What's he done this time?'

'He's locked Al in the store cupboard and won't let him out.'

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	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Twenty-four

Martin slammed his phone shut,

'Bloody imbecile!'

Martin started walking rapidly, only to have to turn back to beckon Paul Milligan peremptorily,

'Come on!'

As they walked, Martin summarised Bert's odd behaviour since finding Anthony Oakwood's body,

'And you think this is just a reaction to the stress of finding the body?' asked Paul.

'Initially, yes, but now I'm starting to wonder if it's something else. He's not very bright so it's hard to distinguish genuine symptoms from everyday idiocy.'

'And now he's locked his son in a store cupboard?'

'Yes.'

'How old is the boy?'

'Al? Twenty-seven.'

Martin noticed that Paul relaxed and realised that he had thought they were dealing with a trapped child,

'Bert may be an obese idiot but he would never hurt Al.'

'Good. How rational is he likely to be?'

'No idea. He tends to ramble incoherently at the best of times so he's probably descended into gibberish by now.'

Paul accepted Martin's assessment without comment, wishing that he wasn't so critical; he really needed a more observant person's viewpoint.

When they reached the restaurant, Pauline came hurrying to meet them,

'He's through here.'

She led them across the terrace and into the kitchen where Bert was stood in front of the storeroom door. As they came in, they could hear Al talking to his father through the door,

'Dad, I can't stay in here, I've got work to do. I'm supposed to be installing a new sink at the old folks home.'

'Your safety is more important than a sink at the old people's home. You can do it another day.'

'How am I supposed to earn a living if I get a reputation for being unreliable?'

'Good point…I'll ring up and tell them you're sick.'

'That won't be necessary,' said Martin firmly.

'Doc, is that you?'

'Yes. What happened, Al?'

'Dad said there was water getting in so I came in to have a look and the next thing I know, he's locking the door.'

Al sounded angry and confused.

'Are you hurt, Al?'

'No, he isn't and I'm going to make sure that it stays that way.'

'Al?'

'I'm fine. I just need to get out of here.'

'Bert, let Al out immediately!'

'Sorry, Doc, no can do. I need to make sure that he's safe, you see.'

'Of course he's safe. What could possibly harm him? Except your cooking, that is.'

'It's a dangerous world out there. People die all the time and you never know who might be next. In there, I know he's safe.'

'Utter nonsense! OPEN THE DOOR AT ONCE!'

Martin held Bert's eyes until Bert reluctantly reached into his pocket and took out a key. Martin snatched the key and, without hesitation, pushed Bert aside and opened the door. As soon as it was open, Al stormed out,

'Dad, if you ever do anything like that again, I'll go and live in Australia. I'm an adult. I don't need protecting!'

Grabbing his coat, Al marched off, leaving Bert staring helplessly after him.

'Bert, this is Doctor Milligan. He's a specialist. Talk to him and do as he tells you.'

'Milligan, if there's anything physical, send him to see me.'

Martin turned on his heel and strode out. Pauline exchanged startled looks with Paul Milligan, before hurrying out after Martin.

Back at the surgery, Martin got Pauline to make a list of all the people needing counselling. When she brought it in to him he was horrified,

'Don't be ridiculous! That's half the village.'

'You said anyone who was bereaved, anyone who was in the collapsed classroom, their families and close friends.'

Martin looked more closely at the list and realised that Pauline had simply done as he asked; everyone on it had been seriously affected by the tragedy.

'Milligan will have to prioritise.'

Handing the list back, his eye was caught by a familiar name,

'Make sure Chelsey Baker sees him today.'

'Yes, Doctor Ellingham.'

Martin spent the rest of the morning seeing urgent cases and checking and signing repeat prescriptions. He was about to break for lunch when he heard Chelsey's voice raised in protest, in the waiting room,

'No, I won't! I want to see Doc Martin!'

Going into the waiting room, he saw Chelsey hiding behind one of the chairs, saying,

'I don't want to!'

'What's going on?' demanded Martin.

'She doesn't want to see Doctor Milligan,' explained Mr Baker, looking embarrassed.

'Why ever not?'

'I like seeing you,' said Chelsey, coming out from behind the chair.

'But I'm not qualified.'

'I don't care. I want to carry on seeing you.'

'Well, you can't. I'm busy.'

'But you make me feel better.'

'What?'

Martin gazed at Chelsey in disbelief. He was terrible with people. He knew that. Everyone else knew it too. He had talked Milligan into coming down specifically because Chelsey needed someone qualified to help her. The others did too but Chelsey's case was desperately urgent and he'd been terrified of failing her.

'It's true. She's been much better since you've been counselling her,' said Emily, 'Hasn't she, Dad?'

Martin looked at Mr Baker, waiting for the denial,

'Aye. She's eating now and not so many nightmares.'

Nonplussed, Martin looked over at Paul Milligan who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Paul quietly said,

'Perhaps I could sit in with Doctor Ellingham whilst he counsels you. Would that be all right?'

Chelsey looked at Paul doubtfully,

'But it would be Doc Martin that counselled me?'

'Yes.'

'All right.'

Hesitantly, Martin led them into his consulting room and arranged the chairs so that they were sat in a circle. Trying to ignore Paul, he said,

'How are you feeling today?'

'A bit better, I'm not feeling sick any more.'

'Good. How are you sleeping?'

'I'm not having as many nightmares but I can't get off to sleep if I'm alone.'

'Hmm. How were you before? Did you go off to sleep on your own?'

'Yes.'

'Are you keeping to the same routine as previously?' he asked Mr Baker.

'No. We've all been so upset that bedtime's been completely hit and miss.'

'Try to get her back into her normal routine. See if that helps.'

Ian Baker nodded and Martin turned back to Chelsey,

'How are you eating?'

'I've had breakfast and lunch today and I had three meals yesterday.'

'Good. Are you remembering to eat fruit and vegetables?'

'Yes.'

Martin was about to ask her whether her bowels were back to normal, when the door burst open and Joe Penhale came in. Outraged, Martin shouted,

'GET OUT!'

'Sorry Doc, just doing my duty. Ian Richard Baker, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder.'

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	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Twenty-five

Martin looked at Penhale in outraged disbelief,

'Get out, you blithering idiot!'

'But I've got to read him his rights.'

'Why? So he can sue you for wrongful arrest later?'

'It won't be wrongful arrest. He had motive and opportunity.'

'So did half the village.'

'But he's big enough to have overpowered Anthony Oakwood.'

'Anthony Oakwood was drugged not overpowered. Didn't you read the autopsy report?'

'It's a top priority but unfortunately pressure of work has prevented me from perusing it as yet.'

'You imbecile! Does Haines know you're here?'

'Yes, he told me to bring him in.'

'What's his number?'

'Ah, well, I'm not actually allowed to tell you his number. It's confidential, you see.'

'Don't be ridiculous. What if a member of the public needs to contact him?'

'Then they contact an officer who decides if it warrants Detective Inspector Haines' attention, and who then asks the Inspector to call the relevant member of the public.'

'Absurd!'

Martin decided that there was no possibility of getting any sense out of Penhale, so shouted,

'Pauline!'

The door opened immediately,

'Yes, Doctor Ellingham.'

'Get hold of Detective Inspector Haines and ask him to call me immediately.'

'Yes, Doctor Ellingham.'

Pauline vanished and they waited in silence until Martin's phone rang,

'Ellingham.'

'Haines here.'

'Did you send Penhale to arrest Ian Baker?'

'No. I sent him to fetch him so I can ask him some more questions.'

'Have you spoken to Chris Parsons?'

'No.'

'You need to.'

Without waiting for Haines to reply, Martin hung up. He turned to Penhale and tried to rein in his exasperation,

'Joe, you were supposed to ask Mr Baker to come and answer some more questions, not arrest him. Why did you think you were supposed to arrest him?'

Penhale looked embarrassed and muttered,

'Must have misheard.'

Martin looked at him suspiciously,

'You fell asleep, didn't you?'

Penhale blushed and nodded.

'How many times has this happened recently?'

'I'm not sure. A few times.'

'Are you taking your medication?'

'Yes.'

'Make an appointment on your way out and ask Pauline to take some blood.'

'Yes, Doc.'

Joe got up to leave and Ian Baker stood up too,

'Better see what the inspector wants. Sorry, Doc.'

Martin nodded curtly and Ian led his daughters out, leaving Martin with Paul Milligan, who said,

'Martin, could I have a word? About Bert Large.'

'Yes?'

'Would you describe him as a straightforward man?'

'Yes. Why?'

'He spent a significant proportion of our session lying to me.'

'Odd.'

'Yes, he refused to tell me what was worrying him even though it's eating away at him. He barely spoke, in fact.'

'Hmm. That's not like him, I usually can't get him to shut up.'

'And he asked me what the difference between hearsay and circumstantial evidence was.'

'Did you tell him?'

'Yes, after he'd lied to me about just wanting to improve his vocabulary,' said Paul with a wry smile.

'How did he react?'

'He relaxed.'

'Interesting.'

'Why?'

'He must have realised who the murderer is.'

'Really.'

'Yes. That explains his behaviour this morning too.'

Martin started towards his consulting room door, intending to get some lunch, only to be stopped by Paul asking,

'But shouldn't we ask him who it is?'

Martin looked at Paul blankly for a second before saying,

'Why? I already know.'

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	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Chapter Twenty-six

Paul looked at Martin in surprise, startled by the indifference in his voice,

'Shouldn't you tell the police?'

'Why? They need evidence, not opinions.'

'But shouldn't you tell them what you think?'

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because the police find it suspicious when suspects direct their attention to other people.'

Paul stopped dead, marvelling at Martin's detachment. He was completely unconcerned about being a suspect. He knew Martin well enough by now to be able to tell that he was genuinely indifferent; being investigated by the police was inconvenient but irrelevant, as far as he was concerned.

'Are you really a suspect?'

'Anthony Oakwood was drugged before being killed. I am one of the only people in the village with a large number of drugs available.'

'What about the pharmacist?'

'Mrs Tishell? Unlikely.'

'Why?'

'No motive.'

'Are you sure? She could have been having a relationship with Oakwood that went sour.'

Martin blushed as he remembered her embarrassing advances towards him,

'Not her type.'

Paul suppressed a smile as Martin continued to blush and decided to try to meet Mrs Tishell as soon as possible.

After lunch, Martin decided to check on Bert and drop the prescriptions off at the chemist.

As he walked down the hill, he met Aunty Joan coming up. She was pushing Peter in his pram,

'You really are the most inconsiderate man, Martin. I don't know why Louisa puts up with you.'

'Why?' asked Martin, baffled.

'You left her with Peter, with one spare nappy, no clean clothes and no bottles. She had to get one of the nurses to call me. Really Martin, you've got to start thinking of these things.'

Horrified, Martin realised that he'd forgotten all about Peter again. At least this time he'd been in a safe place. But how long would it be before he left him somewhere dangerous? He would have to tell Louisa what an unfit father he was. She wouldn't want anything else to do with him but perhaps she'd let him see Peter occasionally. He looked longingly at his son, saying,

'I forgot. Sorry.'

'It's not me you need to apologise to.'

'No.'

'Why don't you go and see Louisa now. Take Peter with you and make sure you say sorry.'

Martin sighed; Aunty Joan was right. He might as well get it over with. He had always known that he wasn't good enough for Louisa and now she'd know it too.

Saying goodbye to Aunty Joan, he pushed the pram up the hill and put Peter in his car. During the drive to Truro, he tried to think of what to say but his mind went blank. Once there, he automatically put Peter in his buggy and made his way through the corridors to Louisa's ward.  
Louisa smiled when she saw them and Martin's heart stuttered in his chest. He stared at her as he tried to force the words out.  
Eventually he managed to say,

'Sorry.'

'What for?'

'For forgetting.'

'For forgetting the nappy bag was empty? But it isn't even our bag. Mrs Harris packed this so why would you have known what was in it?'

'No… I forgot Peter.'

'Forgot Peter?'

'This morning. I forgot that he was with you. I…I didn't think about him at all.'

Martin waited for Louisa to explode but instead she said,

'But you were working and he was with me. Why should you have thought about him?'

'But I keep forgetting about him. Aunty Joan keeps having to remind me to pick him up.'

'Martin, you're not used to being a father yet and the last couple of weeks have hardly been normal. You've been doing a lot of extra work and looking after Peter every night as well. It's no wonder you're a bit absent minded.'

Martin looked at her in dawning hope; was it possible that she could forgive him?

'I still should do better. Even Bert Large is a better father than I am.'

'I'm sure you'll get better over time,' said Louisa, smiling.

Martin looked down at Peter, hesitantly. He wasn't sure that he would get better over time but perhaps he could learn how to be good father. If he put enough hours in, maybe he could eventually deserve them.

Louisa gazed fondly at them both,

'Martin, why don't you get Peter out and bring him over here. I think I'd like a hug from you both.'

Martin blinked back tears as he lifted Peter out of his buggy and handed him to Louisa before sitting on the edge of the bed and gingerly wrapping his arms around them both.

Ten minutes later, Martin was disappointed to be interrupted by Chris Parsons. Louisa smiled warmly at Chris, who had been consistently supportive during her stay in hospital, de-mystifying the medical terminology used by the consultants and coming to chat with her during his lunch break. Chris returned her smile absently but immediately turned to Martin, saying sombrely,

'I need you to look at something.'

'Can't it wait?'

'No.'

Reluctantly, Martin followed Chris to his office. Chris shut the door before handing Martin his laptop,

'Is this the drug you meant?'

Martin read the article and immediately realised that he had been right; Teri Oakwood had been given this or something remarkably similar.

'Yes.'

Without speaking, Chris scrolled down to the list of people credited with contributing to the study. Martin read it without surprise; there had been no other real possibility,

'Have you told Haines?'

'No, I was waiting for you to confirm that this is the right drug.'

'It seems probable. Have the tox screen results come back?'

'No, they've promised that they'll have them tomorrow.'

'Hmm. Better get hold of Haines straight away. He'll need to look for the evidence.'

Chris nodded and Martin left, feeling an overwhelming sadness.

Chris' phone call to DI Haines led to two search warrants being issued and executed. The drugs were well hidden but DI Haines put his most cunning sergeant in charge of the searches and by the end of the day he had the evidence he needed. The next morning he was standing in front of the murderer with an arrest warrant in his hand,

'Teresa Rachel Oakwood, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything but...'

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	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

Epilogue

Martin and Louisa were enjoying a quiet lunch at Bert's restaurant when DI Haines came to see them. It was a beautiful Spring day and Teri Oakwood was the last thing on their minds. Louisa knew that Martin had to give evidence at the trial so she had never asked him about the murder, although she often thought about Teri and wondered what had made her do it. She was wondering when to talk to Martin about having another child. It was too soon for her to have another one but she knew Martin liked to plan things as far in advance as possible. Martin was thinking about the latest epidemic sweeping through the village; he'd had sixteen people call the surgery with flu-like symptoms. Most of them wanted him to write a prescription and found it impossible to understand that antibiotics don't work on viruses.

DI Haines paused to speak to Bert and then came over to their table,

'Sorry to interrupt your lunch, Doctor Ellingham, but I wanted to let you know that you won't need to testify at Mrs Oakwood's trial.'

'Why?'

'The Crown Prosecution Service has decided not to proceed.'

'Why?'

'Not in the public interest.'

'Hmm.'

DI Haines was about to leave when Louisa asked,

'Is Martin allowed to talk about it now?'

'To a certain extent.'

'I can't break medical confidentiality, Louisa, you know that,' said Martin.

'I know that, Martin, but I just wanted to know why she did it. Was it the stress of Sam's death?'

'No, though it was the catalyst,' explained DI Haines.

'Why?'

DI Haines looked at Martin and said,

'Do you want to explain?'

'No.'

DI Haines waited a moment for Martin to elaborate. When he didn't, DI Haines sat down and began to explain,

'Twenty years ago Mrs Oakwood was Teresa Evans, an extremely bright undergraduate at Imperial College, London. She was studying history and was expected to get a first. Her tutor is a professor now and he told me that Teresa Evans had an exceptional intellect backed up by a logical, analytical mind.'

'Teri Oakwood? Are you sure that he was talking about the right person?' asked Louisa, flabbergasted.

'Yes, quite sure. In her second year she met Anthony Oakwood. He was a postgraduate and as well as writing his thesis, he was earning money by helping out with data collection and analysis for clinical trials at the hospital. They started going out when the clinical trial on the drug 1-7-alphaheptalurian was about half way through. Oakwood suggested to Teri that they should become vegetarians but told her that they would need to supplement their diet with multivitamins. As far as we can tell it was at that point that he started feeding her 1-7-alphaheptalurian.'

'Why?'

'1-7-alphaheptalurian was supposed to be a wonder drug; an anti-depressant without side effects. Oakwood noticed that it altered the brain chemistry in unusual ways. In collating all the data, he'd read all the psychiatrists' reports and realised something surprising; people given 1-7-alphaheptalurian were more compliant and suggestible than usual. The lead psychiatrist was going to recommend further trials because he was concerned that it could be abused.'

'And it was,' said Martin bluntly.

'Yes. Oakwood used 1-7-alphaheptalurian to get Teri to do what he wanted. Within a month they were living together, within three months she had dropped out of university and a year later they were married. Oakwood isolated her from her friends and family and imposed his opinions upon her.'

'That's terrible!' said Louisa, horrified.

'Yes. And he carried on giving it to her even though he knew what it would do to her long term,' said Martin, grimly.

Louisa paled and Martin awkwardly put his arm around her.

'Yes, if he had lived a bit longer Oakwood would have had some difficult questions to answer,' continued DI Haines.

'But where did he get it from?'

'We found emails on Oakwood's computer to a Brazilian pharmaceuticals company, negotiating for a bulk order of 1-7-alphaheptalurian. It's still licensed in Brazil, though only for short-term use. He used his professional standing to persuade them to sell it to him.'

'Evil,' said Louisa, shivering.

'Yes,' agreed Martin.

'So, what changed?' asked Bert, who had been quietly listening.

'After Sam died, Teri was distraught. She kept being sick which meant that the drug didn't have time to be absorbed into her system. A few days after Sam died Teri Oakwood realised that something strange was going on. At first she thought it was grief making her view everything differently but Anthony's behaviour made her increasingly suspicious. He ordered her around and expected her to agree with everything he said and he was obsessed with her taking vitamins and having as much calcium as possible. And Teri realised that she was suffering from withdrawal symptoms. When Oakwood went out she gradually worked her way through his emails, then searched the house and found the 1-7-alphaheptalurian, still in a labelled box. She recognised them as the 'vitamins' she'd been taking for years. She found a web site set up by a support group for people who have suffered skeletal damage caused by long-term use of 1-7-alphaheptalurian. There was also information about the psychological effects of the drug as well. The next morning she ground up ten 1-7-alphaheptalurian tablets and put them in Oakwood's coffee. Half an hour later he was woozy and confused. Teri simply ordered him to lie on the floor and not to move whatever happened then smothered him with a cushion. She expected to get caught straight away but then you turned up, Mr Large, and offered her a chance to muddy the waters, which she seized with both hands.'

'Yes, she made a fool out of me,' said Bert ruefully.

'But you realised it was her. How?' asked Martin.

'Ah, well, it was the look she gave me.'

'The look she gave you?' asked Martin, sceptically.

'It's hard to explain but when Al was a lad of about five, if he'd done something wrong and was trying to convince me he hadn't, he'd give me this look, out of the side of his eyes, trying to see if he'd convinced me. When I was in the kitchen with Mrs Oakwood after we'd found the body, she said all the right things but then she looked at me just the way Al used to and I knew that she'd killed him. And I realised that she knew that I knew.'

'So that's why you were so worried.'

'Yes. I didn't know what to do.'

'So you made yourself ill with worry,' said Martin, disapprovingly.

Bert looked embarrassed and quickly changed the subject,

'So, does that mean Mrs Oakwood will be coming back to the village?'

'No,' replied Martin sadly.

'Why not? I think people would understand,' said Louisa.

Martin looked down at the floor, not wanting to annoy Louisa but unable to discuss Teri Oakwood's medical condition without her permission. Realising Martin's quandary, DI Haines answered for him,

'Not medically possible.'

'That poor woman!' said Louisa, 'He's not only stolen her past, he's taken her future too.'

'Yes,' agreed DI Haines sombrely, 'And she blamed him for the deaths of Sam and the other children too. She said that if she'd been herself, she would never have supported his woolly theories and Sam would never have behaved the way he did, so the accident would never have happened.'

'She could well be right. I tried to make Anthony Oakwood see that Sam's behaviour was mostly attention seeking and could easily be corrected by using positive reinforcement of good behaviour. He spouted a load of pseudo-psychological nonsense and then told me to mind my own business. I wish I'd tried harder.'

Louisa sounded regretful and slightly guilty, so Martin quickly said,

'It wouldn't have made any difference. The man was an evil egotist who thought drugging his wife was acceptable. He was never going to let you change his mind.'

Louisa's expression lightened and Martin realised, with a sense of shock, that he'd managed to say the right thing for once.

DI Haines left and Martin and Louisa gazed sadly out to sea, thinking of the lives damaged and destroyed by one man's evil.

They were jolted out of their reverie by Bert putting plates in front of them,

'On the house. I think we all need cheering up.'

'What is it, Bert?'

'It's my Port Wenn pudding,' replied Bert proudly.

'God!'

'Martin! What's in it?'

'Well, the recipe's a secret but seeing as it's you…I took a recipe for Rocky Road and replaced half the marshmallows with dark chocolate chips and used ginger biscuits instead of plain.'

Louisa took a cautious bite,

'It's delicious! What have you called it?'

'Well, I haven't quite decided. What do you think of Ginger Road? Or maybe Rocky Highway? No, I know...Bert's Surprise.'

The End

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